Wayward Blades
by The Erudite Traveler
Summary: My records of my encounters with the mysterious assassin Altair. Altair/OC -My first story, R&R please!-
1. The First Encounter

I first met him on a rooftop.

He was dressed like a monk or a scholar, but the weapons he carried belied his true nature. It is a miracle, I think, that guards did not shout "Hashshashin!" the minute they saw him. How could he be anything else, with that deadly sway in his walk, the way he wore death like a mantle?

In any case, I had been up on the roof checking for a crack. My father owned the building and he claimed that rats were getting in through a hole in the roof. I was sent up to check, for as he had but a single daughter, he was forced to rely on my help rather than that of a sturdy son. He did not love me the less for it, and though he protected me with all the fierceness of a single father he did not chain me down. For that I always was grateful. It was early evening, and in the fading light I scoured the dusty stones for a telltale chink. That is when I came across a most unusual symbol, something that vaguely resembled a partially opened compass. It was unfamiliar to me, especially since I was not aware that there was another building behind ours. I saw that the symbol seemed to point into a garden, sealed with a plain woven wicker grating. Green ivy poked through in places. Upon closer examination I saw that part of the grate could be removed, to open the garden to the sky. I inched closer and looked down not into a garden but a pavilion, scattered with colorful throw pillows and adorned with a handsomely carved fountain. I was lost in my examination of this strange hidden place and did not notice the man till he spoke. Considering what he is, though, perhaps I would not have noticed him either way.

"What are you doing here?"

His voice was level and quiet, and all too calm for my tastes. I spun around so fast I nearly fell. I had not expected anyone else to be up on the rooftops. Especially not someone like him. I tensed immediately, my eyes flicking to the ladder that was a mere ten feet away and back to his face. Those ten feet might as well have been a mile. He was implacable, I could feel it like heat from an oven.

"I…I was looking for cracks in the ceiling. My father said mice were getting into the house. I saw the symbol and was curious"

To my own ears the explanation seemed feeble, my position not helped by my cracked voice. I cleared my throat and tried again.

"I will not trouble you further, I-"

Suddenly, something streaked between us. An arrow. It clattered against the far wall.

"It's the assassin! Stop him!"

The man uttered an oath and scanned the distant rooftops, marking the guards that approached. I could see three archers and four more men drawing swords as the scrambled clumsily toward us. I cursed as well, using one of those precious few words I kept in stock for such situations. The guards seemed to have grouped me with the assassin, for another arrow whizzed by decidedly closer to me than him. More _fwips_ pursued that one, as the archers paused in their climb to fire deadly missiles. More arrows flew out of the half-light, but from the other direction. Damnation! There were guards on the buildings across from us. They had boxed us in. I did not find it strange to have so suddenly aligned myself with the mysterious, white-robed man. The guards seemed to have chosen my allegiance for me anyway.

"Follow me!"

I don't know what it was that made me wave my hand out urgently to the stranger. Perhaps a feeling of kinship, what with me being unfairly assaulted by the supposed city guard, perhaps I was simply not thinking straight at the time. In any case, I darted for the ladder, taking the rungs two at a time. I was only marginally surprised when a white blur landed next to me. Too good for conventional methods, then. I ran off down the street, the rattle of metal on metal close behind us signaling pursuit. Unsurprisingly, the deadly stranger made little noise, and his movements were efficient and graceful. Darting down a side alley, I yanked him into a doorway. There was a crude curtain nailed to the doorjamb, with about a foot and a half of clearance between it and the actual door. It was the house of my best friend Sudha, but her and her family was in Jerusalem, visiting relatives. In the dimness, I struggled to control my panting so the guards would not hear me. Their shouts and clamor were still clearly audible, and they seemed determined to stay in the area. I took the opportunity to examine this man who had so changed my life in a few short minutes. I could not see very well in such light, but I could make out a handsome face under that hood. A scar marred his lips, but it was not ugly so much as heroic. I thought he looked like some legend had stepped right off the pages of a book. Like a prince or a-a noble warrior! Someone dangerous, in any case. The set of his jaw and that chilling coldness in his eyes told me as much. Really, how DID the man manage to set foot out of doors without a horde of guards descending on him like a cloud of mildly retarded vultures? The recessed doorway was narrow, forcing us to stand closely together. I was still clutching the front of his robe in a white-knuckled grip, but I could not force myself to relax. I could feel his breathing, though, and it seemed level and not at all labored. I gritted my teeth in envy. If only I were allowed to run about often enough to build up such endurance! Unfortunately, even a short run would leave me breathless and set my heart hammering in my chest. Indistinct shouts from beyond the curtain still reached us, so we stood frozen there for who knows how long. He seemed to suddenly realize that I was still there, and turned his gaze to meet mine instead of staring fixedly at something beyond the curtain. It was like a physical blow, and my breathing hitched for a second. He had dark eyes, rimmed with sleepless bruises. Such an intense stare it was, that it pinned me to the wooden frame behind me like a stake had been driven through my forehead. Silence, but for external noises, cocooned us. I could not speak, for the infinite layers of meaning in his eyes I could not even begin to understand had paralyzed me. He was more than a man, and yet less. In his hollowness he transcended what it meant to be human. All in nothing more than a look! I shuddered to think what terrible secrets he could tell. I cleared my throat nervously.

"The guards are not usually so persistent. They cannot linger much longer, I am sure"

I tried to fill the silence, but still he did not speak. I could feel a bead of cold sweat trickling down my spine. Gods, but he was intimidating. I regretted guiding him away, and yet knew that it could not have been otherwise. City guards were slow to distinguish between innocents and criminals. Purposely slow.

"There is no yelling anymore. You can be on your way…"

Still no response, just that damnable stare. It was like he was trying to read my mind. He shifted suddenly, and broke my grip on him. I flushed, suddenly re-aware that I had failed to let go of him in the tense moment. I could not think clearly. It was a combination of knee-knocking fear and star struck awe. He was so strikingly handsome, so very serious, so deadly. I could not function correctly in his presence, and I did not even know him.

"Thank you for your help"

And then he was gone. The only thing that suggested that he had ever been there was the flutter of the curtain behind him and the terrified rattle in my chest.


	2. We Meet Again

I second spotted him in the market place.

Same outfit, of course. It was a scant week since my last encounter with the mystery murderer, and I hadn't been able to get him off my mind. Who was he? Where had he come from? Was he the assassin who had been killing off all those prominent political figures? I myself wasn't very interested in politics, but my father seemed very worried by recent events. In any case, I had stopped by the market to purchase some fresh fruit. The days were getting warmer and father always liked chilled fruit to take the edge off. I was on my way home, and had decided to take a shortcut away from the busier areas. Ducking into an alley, I edged around a cluster of those drunken buffoons, the city guards. Suddenly, one of them grabbed my wrist and almost caused me to drop the basket I was carrying.

"Why you little thief!"

I stared at him, confused, and tried my most respectful voice.

"Surely you are not referring to me, sir? I am just o-"

He cut me off, his voice harsh and his face adorned with a cruel smirk.

"Going to go and steal in my presence? It'll be the last time you ever do!"

He gave me a sharp yank, and I clutched the basket to my chest. A nearby stall owner, tucked away from the central market, looked on in horror. I pleaded for help, but he simply turned about and hurried away. He did not even bother to throw a cloth over his wares, mostly cheap trinkets. He was going to just let the guards harass me. Not that I blamed him. The guards were cruel and sly, and after all, no one could stand up to a blade. Bravery does not make you impervious to steel. The guard threw me forward, against a wall. In my panic I clung to my purchases like an anchor. I was trembling, but I would not let the cur see it. I drew myself up and turned to face him.

"This is illegal! I have done nothing wrong!"

He and his companions laughed in my face, and I realized how stupid I sounded. They decided if a citizen was breaking the law, but who would decide if they themselves broke the law? _Quis custodiet ipsos custodes, _or_ "_Who will guard the guards?". I was trapped. Those who should have upheld order and justice were trodding all over it, and there was nothing anyone could do.

At least, that was what I thought.

A white shape appeared at the end of the alley, and I was sure I must be dreaming. He strode purposefully down toward the guards, and it was far too late when one of them shouted some warning or another to the 'peasant'. A hidden blade slid into view with a vicious _snikt_, but no one seemed to notice. How could they not notice? He had their deaths in his eyes. He leaped into the air, unbelievably agile, and pinned a man beneath him before introducing him to his knife. It took all of five seconds. The other guards stood frozen in shock, eventually gathering themselves enough to fumble their swords out. He was too quick, though, and in mere seconds he had downed another man. A swift stab here, a lighting slash there. The group of six was decimated in under three minutes. I stood paralyzed in the midst of this bloody whirlwind, clinging to my fruits. The last body slumped around me, and the assassin sheathed his knife. He turned to look at me, slight surprise registering alongside familiarity on his features.

"You again. This time the guards had to be averted with a blade. You seem to be escalating in the class of trouble you find for yourself"

His voice still surprised me, so calm and dispassionate. He could have been talking about the weather, and here he had just killed six men! He didn't even look winded! My jaw worked silently. No response seemed appropriate. What could I say? 'Thanks for murdering those asshole guards! Seeya around!'.

"I...uh, that is to say, I was just out shopping. It was just my poor luck to run into these men when I did, and I suppose it was my good luck that you came along"

He seemed amused, though he did not smile.

"Good luck, me? That is something I have not heard before"

With a quiet rustle of cloth, he was gone again. Not even so much as a goodbye. And I did not even get to thank him. I felt guilty and relieved, and guilty about being relieved. He was an assassin, and I owed him my life. I vowed to make it up to him somehow, and with a plan already formulating in my mind, I set off for home.


	3. A Little Note

I third encountered him in my very room.

My plan for expressing my gratitude was not very sufficient, in my opinion, but I did not know what else to do. Upon getting home, I managed to greet my father without my quivering voice betraying me. I was still shaken from those guards. Never had I come quite so close to something truly awful happening to me. I left the fruits in the larder for a bit, to cool, and then prepared a tray for father. I made a smaller one too, and left it in the very back of the stone cupboard. Once I brought him the little snack, for which I was rewarded with a beaming smile and unnecessary praises, I returned to my room. Taking a seat at my desk, I pulled up a scrap of paper, some ink, and a usable quill. Dipping the delicate glass rod into the ink, I wrote a note in my very best handwriting. It said something to the effect of:

Thank you for rescuing me, stranger.

I do not know how to repay this debt, but know that I will render

any service I can give available to you. My home is your haven, my

food is your nourishment. Please do not hesitate to call upon me or

my father for favours. I will explain the situation to him in full should

you do so. Say you come at the behest of Akilah and he will do whatever

you ask.

Blessings of Allah upon you, merciful saviour.

I felt this to be appropriately florid and grateful, and went back into the kitchen to fetch the tray. It was dusk by now, and a few early stars were visible in the tawny eastern sky. The tray, perspiring with moisture, was perfect. I covered it with a cloth and brought it outside. Father was nowhere to be found, luckily, so I did not have to answer any difficult questions. Balancing the tray precariously on my hand, I ascended the ladder and approached the mysterious sign where I had first met the stranger. Setting the tray down, I tucked the note underneath and took my leave. I felt that lying in wait would be disrespectful of his profession, however much I desired to see the man again. Perhaps even ask a few questions…But no, I could not do this. Instead, I retired to my rooms for the evening. Sleep, however, eluded me. The sky went from dull gold to gray, to black speckled with brilliant diamond stars, and still I lay awake. I tossed and turned, my mind frothing with questions for which I had no answers. Questions that spawned further questions, in a never ending circle of frustrations. I sat up with a growl, flinging my thing blanket off me. Pacing would help, I thought. I would work off some of that excess energy. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. I must have worn through the rug with my ceaseless tramping. Finally I sat back down on the bed. My insides were roiling with a strange mixture of apprehension and elation. I wanted to spy on him, perhaps hang about that strange pavilion some more, and at the same time I was so scared my heart was beating in my throat. Lucky me, I was spared the agony of the choice. A dark shape intruded upon my window. I usually closed it for the night, but today I had want of the moonlight to illuminate my room. Against the cloudless night sky he was silhouetted. There was no question as to who it was. Yet again struck dumb, I could only watch as he placed tray and cover on my table before turning to face me.

"You make deals with the devil, offering me assistance like that"

I tried to unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth, and only partly succeeded. My words were mumbled and came out all in a rush.

"I needed to show my gratitude somehow. You risked your life for mine, no small feat"

I did not add the little 'you are my hero' that was braced against the back of my teeth. It sounded terribly cheesy, and he would laugh at me for sure. For now he did that searching look again, the one that cut clear through to my soul. I fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, suddenly acutely aware that I was in nothing more than a nightgown. I cursed the plainness of the black silk slip, and then was left mentally speechless as well. I was hoping to impress him with my…beauty? It was an unnerving thought, and one I shied away from.

"Perhaps I will take you up on your offer someday. Goodnight, Akilah"

He turned to leave, and I flung up a hand.

"Wait! How do you know my name?"

He gave me a rueful grin.

"It was in your letter…"

I flushed again, having already forgotten the little note that I left.

"Oh. Well, that isn't fair then. I deserve to know the name of the man who rescued me"

I was surprised by my own boldness, and we stood frozen for what felt like hours. Me clutching the blanket and standing with my hand half up like a fool, him with one foot and both hands on the windowsill. He seemed to be weighing things. Weighing me, the situation, his options. Finally, he spoke a single word, and was gone.

I savoured the foreign name he had given himself, whispering it aloud.

"Altair"


	4. Moonlit Rooftops

There was a shadow on my wall. I had taken to leaving the window open at night, telling myself it was because I liked the moonlight. I did not want to admit to the foolish hope that Altair would show up again. Not so foolish, so it seemed. I half rose from my bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes, but he was already in the room and almost on top of me. I barely managed to register the fact that he had his hood down before he kissed me. It was rough and savage and full of the same danger he exuded like an aura. It was perfect. I threw a hand up to push him away, telling myself it was not right, but he simply caught my wrist in his steely grip. My protests faded quickly, his harsh breaths and steady, thudding heartbeat weaving a tune I could not help but dance to. I shifted, my free hand catching the front of his robe as I broke the kiss. He had effortlessly left me gasping for air like a landed fish.

"_Altair… _"

I woke with a start, covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat. A dream. Nothing but a meaningless, stupid dream. I refused to think about it as having any significance. _Stupid girl. Silly, sighing, hare-brained little fool. Lost in fantasies that cannot ever be_. _He is a _killer!_ He is as likely to put a blade between your ribs as look at you._ I covered my face with both hands, taking a shaky breath_. You goat-kissing mangy rodent! Pull your head out of the clouds and screw it firmly back on your shoulders! _I scrubbed my eyes and sat up, pulling the blanket about my shoulders like a cloak. It was chilly in the room, the night air sighing like a pining lover. I got up and made my unsteady way to the window, leaning out and watching the empty street. Somewhere a dog barked, and crickets were chirping up a storm. It was a different kind of bustle from daytime. At night, the creeping, quiet things came out from under the floorboards and made their own noise. A whole new city. Suddenly taken by some foolish whimsy, I tossed aside the blanket and got dressed. Pulling myself up on the windowsill, I took a deep breath. If Altair could do it, so could I. Not like he was an assassin trained in this stuff or anything. Nope. I used the decoratively carved lattice to pull myself up to the roof, clinging with desperate fingers and toes to whatever precarious holds I could find. Having got up in one piece, I took a moment to revel in the faint warmth of the stones beneath me. Though desert nights were cool, the blazing heat of the sun by day soaked right into the heart of the city. I rose, and, as this seemed a night for impulsive stupidity, I threw my head back and howled at the moon like a jackal. It felt so good, for some reason, to just yowl like a madwoman. Surely if someone saw me they would take me for possessed, or perhaps an actual demon in the flesh. Half crouching, I darted out along the rooftops, yelping and barking and howling as the mood took me. Barefoot, I made little noise as I moved. I had worn my most practical clothes; loose but not baggy brown linen pants and a matching tunic with elbow length sleeves. I was a wild-haired shadow, I imagined. I threw out another howl, and somewhere beyond the city wall yapping jackals or coyotes responded. Ever since I encountered Altair I have been taking more risks, acting strangely. Father said I seemed more vibrant than ever before. I still sometimes left trays of food on the roof for my mysterious acquaintance, and every time the tray was neatly on my desk the next morning. I never saw hair nor hide of Altair, and I suspected I would not unless he let me. I pushed aside thoughts of him in favor of scrambling across a narrow arch to a building across the street. I wasn't sure I would be able to get home; the city was changed at night. Streets familiar by day made alien by shifting shadows and a tingling apprehension. The darkness and emptiness of the city sent tingles down my spine, but I welcomed the little thrill. It was such a risk! There were guards out here, however few, and they were sure to pincushion me with arrows before asking questions, what with the way I was jumping about and shrieking like a banshee. In defiance of the thought, I threw my head back for another howl. The calls from beyond the city were louder now. I grinned, pleased, and pretended to be a real jackal. Sitting back on my haunches, I put my hands on the ground and my face to the sky. Low and as mournful as I could, I howled at the moon. I was trapped in here, while my brothers and sisters hunted free! I ran again, not as agile as I would like but who cares? No one out here to see me. I scrambled over slates and up and down ladders. My breath came in gasps, but I ignored the tightness in my throat and ran on. The adrenaline flooding my veins filled my limbs with a sort of desperate vitality and made the burning in my lungs easy to ignore, at least for now. Where there was no passage to the next group of buildings I turned and kept running in a straight line till my path was blocked again. I ceased my cries in favor of conserving my breath. That blasted ache in my chest assailed me, and my heart was beating faster than a hummingbirds. I ignored the discomfort though, swallowing to ease my scratchy throat. I was not a jackal anymore, I was being chased by bandits! I had to outrun them or I would pay with my life. I had, after all, eluded their capture many a time. They would not stand for it any longer. They would simply kill me now, rather than ransom me. I was too clever, it was too much bother trying to keep me prisoner for more than a day. Hah! A secret pathway. I darted up one side of a roof and down the other, leaping over a narrow gap between buildings and skirting around the corner of a tower. A stone bridge, normally reserved for patrolling soldiers, lay empty before me. Hands out to either side I rushed across before I could rethink the act. Breathing heavily, I climbed down to a lower building and crouched by the ladder. I could rest here. Those buffoon bandits would never know how I eluded them. After a few minutes, my pants slowed and my racing heart had calmed. I realized I had just played the most elaborate game of pretend I ever had, at least since I was a child. Clicking my teeth together sharply so I did not laugh, I instead clutched my sides and wheezed quietly. Here I was, a grown woman, running about on rooftops like a crazy person. Playing imaginary games. Hah! Sudha was right, I was still a little girl inside. Suddenly, the situation seemed a lot less funny. I had no idea where I was. Climbing back up, I tried to orient myself. In the darkness, though, landmarks were hard to spot. I tried to use the mosque to orient myself, but I could not tell its minaret from one of the multitudes of other towers that rose up in the dark. Blast it all. I was not despairing; I had a good head on my shoulders and would figure out where I was eventually. It was just such a bother. I retraced my steps as far as I could, which was not far at all. Ugh, this was really a mess. Sunrise would be in a few hours, and if I did not find my way home father would have a fit. Slumping down, I heaved an annoyed sigh.

"Lost, Akilah?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, leaping up as though electrocuted. That voice was all too familiar.

"…Altair?"

Tentatively, I peered into the night. How could someone in bright white robes hide so well? Suddenly, he was beside me. He could have been a ghost for all the noise he made. And I had thought I was being sneaky, running about shoeless!

"I think the entire city heard you yelling your head off. The city watch will think demon dogs have invaded. You've probably given every god-fearing soul for miles around nightmares…"

I flushed, silently grateful for the darkness that hid my embarrassment. Of course he had heard me. That was just my luck, him catching me acting the fool after that…that sort of dream!

"I was…taking the night air. It's very refreshing, don't you think?"

I kept my tone as airy and light as I could, but there was no hiding the faint tremor in it. The mortification of being interrupted in my idiotic carousing made me blush to my bones. Curse him and his…his whatever it was that made me so nervous! He said nothing, instead trying to bore holes in my head with his eyes. Even when I couldn't see his face I could feel him looking at me. I suppressed a shudder. Had he been following me? If so, why? I couldn't have come upon him by coincidence. I realized, with another burst of heat right to the roots of my hair, that with my antics he had no need to follow me. Like he said, the entire city probably heard me.

"Um, I uh, that is, you wouldn't happen to know where the mosque is, would you? My eyesight is not so good as yours"

There was no way I was asking where my house was. I looked silly enough as is, behaving like a six year old. The eyesight thing was probably true in any case. I silently dared him to tell me otherwise, to call me out on my charade. He said nothing, but the faint twitch at the corners of his lips said he knew exactly what I didn't want to ask.

"It's over there"

He pointed to the left and slightly behind me, and I was sure he wasn't referring to the mosque. I ducked my head in thanks and spun on my heel, ready to run the entire way home. A light pressure on my shoulder froze me mid-stride.

"Thank you for the food. It's nice to have something waiting after…a long day"

I stammered something unintelligible, protesting. He had saved my life; my little favors were incomparable to that. It probably didn't help my coherence factor that the 'long day' was probably spent slitting throats and whatnot. Without turning to look at him, I pulled away from his light grasp and resumed my brisk stride across the roof, eager to get away before I did something extra stupid. Unfortunately for my lofty goal, Altair cleared his throat and I stopped again. I wasn't going to run away, I wasn't!

"You are clearly afraid of me, and yet you willingly offer me help instead of pretending nothing ever happened"

I shrugged uncomfortably and turned to face him.

"It would have been ungrateful of me not to try and repay the debt. I…You're not _scary_"

I tried very hard not to sound defensive and failed wholeheartedly. Again, that almost-not-quite-a-smile twitch told me as much.

"You're just very intimidating. I mean, you could probably launch me over the horizon with a flick of your finger. I'm a bit of a lightweight, in case you hadn't noticed"

It was a fair point, though I doubt Altair bought it. He didn't say anything though, or show any other sign of accepting my explanation. Instead, after a second or two of silence, he darted over to me and bridal swept me off the ground. I didn't even have time to protest as he took off at a speed that snatched my breath away. Gaps 3 meters or more across seemed mere hops, though each time I felt Altair tense up in preparation for a leap I clung a little bit tighter to his robes. He ran effortlessly, as though I weighed nothing at all, and his agility seemed little hindered by the lack of hands. In minutes he was lowering me to the ground, my unsteady legs barely supporting me. To my great humiliation I nearly fell over when he first put me down, forcing me to cling to his arm like a little girl hanging on her mothers' apron. Altair bore it all patiently, and the supportive hand he offered was surprisingly gentle. Once I could stand properly, he took me by the wrists and lowered me down enough that I could catch the windowsill with my feet and duck inside. Putting a hand to my chest to make sure that my heart hadn't burst out of it over the duration of that little trip, I leaned back out and whispered a ferociously inadequate thank you. I didn't hear a response for a while, so I assumed he had already left. Just as I was about to return to bed, I heard his soft, imperious voice.

"Goodnight, Akilah"

A streaking shadow leaped over me, silhouetted against the night sky. Altair was gone once again.

I lay awake, my mind reeling, until the first feeble rays of sunlight tentatively intruded upon my room.


	5. The Merchant King's Feast

Soon after my rooftop escapade, I met my would-be hero once again. I had, much to my chagrin, been asked to act as a serving girl at a huge party the Merchant King was throwing. My father did not like him, and consequently I did not like him. Father explained that he was corrupt and immoral, though he did not say how, but I supposed it was as much as I was going to get out of him. For all that he doted on me, father did not seem to think I would understand the complex world of politics. I did not blame him for it. I had been educated far beyond most of my friends as is, what with all the tutors father hired for me. I hadn't liked it at first, but after a year or so I discovered that learning could actually be fun. Who knew? In any case, the little sessions had ended two years prior and I sometimes found myself missing my array of affable old scholars.

With a sigh, I turned my thoughts from the past and focused on my outfit. It wasn't much to my tastes, but it's not like I had a say in the matter. When a king 'asks' you to do something, you damn well do it and smile hard while you're at it. The outfit consisted of a sort of saree. Loose silk pants that would settle on my hips, a matching silk top that cut off just above my belly button and would leave my shoulders bare, and worked leather sandals. It came with a sheer, decorative shawl as well, and all the clothes were in shades of peach, orange, and gold. With a put-upon sigh, I got dressed and took a seat in front of the mirror. Despite being moderately skilled in the application of makeup, I still didn't enjoy the process very much. A touch of blush, some dark red lip paint, and a dusting of shimmery gold across my eyelids were about as much as I would agree to. Standing back to get the full effect, I had to admit I looked pretty good. I never thought of myself as very pretty, but the clothes seemed to bring out some of that hidden female allure, even if I did feel somewhat uncomfortable in the revealing outfit. The pants hung so low on my hips I was afraid they would slip down, though I knew they were perfectly well attached. I resisted the urge to pull the shirt straps up, trying to convince myself they were also perfectly well attached. All in the entire thing felt very likely to just fall off at any moment. Still, the colours matched nicely, and when I wrapped the shawl around my head it at least _felt_ like it was covering something up. Oh! But I never have described myself, have I? Well then. I have very dark brown hair, curly and almost waist length, and eyes so dark they are practically black. I have to admit that I have a rather boyish figure, with none of those sought after curves, but I don't really mind. It's hard to be objective when talking about yourself, but I'll try to be honest. My face is oval shaped, with thin lips and a small nose. I have very big eyes, framed with thick lashes that give me a sort of perpetually startled look. High cheekbones and arching eyebrows, and somewhat lighter skin than usual for an Arab. All in all I feel I am somewhat pretty, but far from a jaw-dropping beauty. If I possessed a more womanly figure, perhaps, but as it was I was rather lanky and lacking conventional appeal. The clothes and makeup helped, and I actually started to get sort of fond of the outfit. I tied the sandals and skipped along downstairs, sneaking up behind father and planting a kiss on his cheek. The lipstick left a perfect print, and I giggled as he grumbled good naturedly and rubbed it off.

"You look lovely, dear"

His voice was gruff, but I could see the pride in his eyes. Father thought I didn't dress prettily enough, and he always tried to bribe me into wearing more flattering clothes. It was time to leave, so I swung a thin cloak around my shoulders and left for the castle. Father escorted me part of the way, leaving me at the gates. He had business to conduct elsewhere, and he promised to return in the evening to pick me up. I was directed by a similarly dressed serving girl to the kitchens, where I was instructed to help lay out food for the guests. I left my cloak hanging on a peg in the scullery, barely having let go of the thing before a terrifying behemoth of a woman chased me out loaded down with trays of food. Setting up the tables took ages, and it was hard to resist the temptation to sneak bits of food. Once the food was all done, a number of girls, me among them, were set to putting up decorations. It could have been tasteful but there was so much gold on display that it turned into a gaudy, over-the-top extravaganza of poor taste.

Soon after we finished that, guests began to arrive. We had been instructed to put up with absolutely anything they did, to smile pretty, and to offer wine to anyone and everyone who walked through those doors. Armed with trays and goblets of wine, we were sent out into the crowd. The babble of talk and laughter filled the air, and everyone seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. After an hour or so everyone seemed mildly drunk, and the general tone of the party became more subdued as attendees struggled to force their tongues to cooperate. The serving girls had long since stopped giving out drinks. With everyone in possession of their own cup, they simply congregated at the wine-spouting fountain. No, our job now was to look pretty and chat up the lonelier looking fellows. I found it distasteful and demeaning, but I had no choice. So I forced myself to put up with the fumbling gropes, the slurred one-liners. I struggled to maintain my simpering grin, batting my eyes and nodding at all the right moments. As I was drifting away from one drunkard and toward another, I felt a hand slipping around my waist. An arm far too steady to belong to one of the partygoers. Looking up, my jaw fell open.

"Altair? What are you doing here?"

I leaned into him, smiling for all I was worth. Just another fellow who needed entertainment. Nothing more.

"You need to leave, Akilah. There will be murder done here"

The words chilled me to the bone, but somehow I felt he did not mean the killing he was about to commit. He did not seem the type to refer to his work as murder. He was too…careful for that. Well-trained and poised. What he did was the result of a lifetime of training. It was an art.

"I cannot. I'm assigned to work here, I will not be allowed out. At best I might be able to hide in the kitchens, but they closed the doors hours ago. We've all been mingling out here since then. Altair, wha-"

A hush fell over the crowd, cutting me off. The Merchant King had come to speak with his people. Altair pulled me to the side, drifting toward the arches.

"Welcome, welcome! Thank you all for joining me this evening. Please, eat, drink, enjoy all the pleasures I have to offer. Take your time, I will wait…"

A number of already drunk men dove for the wine fountain to down another glass or two. The Merchant King appeared amused by their bawdy behavior. I myself had expected more of the crème of society.

"I trust everything is to your satisfaction? Good, good! It pleases me to see you all so happy, for these are dark days my friends, and we must enjoy this bounty while we still can. War threatens to consume us all. Salah Hadin bravely fights for what he believes in, and you are always there to support him without question. It is your generosity that allows his campaign to continue. So, I propose a toast then! To you, my good friends, who brought us to where we are today. May you be given everything you deserve for it"

Another pause, as murmurs and cheers filled the air. People liked to think they were being honored, even if it was meaningless flattery.

"Such kindness! I didn't think it in you. You, who have been so quick to judge me, and so cruelly!"

The cheers turned to shouts of protest. More frippery and lies. Even I knew what these people said when no loyal ears were listening.

"Oh, do not feign ignorance, do you take me for a fool? That I have not heard the words you whisper behind my back. Well, I have, and I fear I can never forgive you. But this is not why I called you tonight, no, I wish to speak more of this war and your part in it. You give up your coin quick as can be, knowing all too well it buys the deaths of thousands. You don't even know why we fight! The sanctity of the holy land, you'll say, or the evil inclination of our enemies. But these are lies you tell yourselves. Hahahaha, no. All this suffering is borne of fear and hate. It bothers you that they are different, just as it bothers you that I am different! Compassion, mercy, tolerance. These words mean nothing to any of you! Mean nothing to those infidel invaders who ravage our land in search of gold and glory and so I say enough! I've pledged myself to another cause. One that will bring about a new world in which all people might live side by side in peace"

He sighed, looking down upon the now angry and confused crowd. The shouts had become louder and louder as he spoke, more enraged. The crowd was becoming unruly, and somewhere towards the back a serving girl wailed. Altair and I had receded into a shadowed arch by now, and I shrunk against him. The way things were going, it seemed like there would be a riot.

"A pity none of you will live to see it…"

Screams. A man began to choke, dropping his goblet. The wine had been poisoned. People milled desperately, seeking escape. From his lofty position above the crowd, the corpulent king addressed his guards.

"Kill anyone who tries to escape"

Now I understood Altair's warning. This was a trap, a lure for all the rich and powerful opponents to the kings rule. He had gathered everyone he knew secretly hated him and finished them all off. None of them were powerful enough on their own to deny his invitation, so their presence was basically assured. If this plot worked, he would have everyone who could undermine him dead, and no one to talk about it. Sure, questions would be asked, but of course no one would inquire too closely. It was quite brilliant, in a terrifying sort of way. Guards up on the balustrade picked off the people milling beneath them with cool efficiency. They did not seem all that hurried; they knew their victims weren't going anywhere. Altair turned to face me, steely determination in his eyes.

"Stay out of sight, lie down and pretend to be dead. I will be back for you"

He flicked out a knife and slashed my stomach, leaving a shallow cut about two inches long. I yelped more from surprise than pain, but obediently I sank to the floor and propped myself up slightly against the wall. If no one looked too closely, which in the confusion they wouldn't, they'd surely think I was dead. He nodded in satisfaction and flashed away. I watched from beneath half-lidded eyes as he leapt across a table and up onto an awning, hoisting himself up into the corridor ringing the central court. One by one, I watched the guards be cut down by a ghostly figure. I stayed where I was, not moving, for a good twenty minutes. The crowds of people had managed to hammer through the doors and poured out of the palace, their distant shouts fading with each passing second. It seems the guards outside had no orders to stop anyone leaving, though the state of panic the people were in probably raised numerous questions. It was eerie, to lay there with a bunch of corpses. I made no move to leave though. Altair said he would be back, and until he returned I would not risk getting pin-cushioned by some straggler guard. After what felt like ages, a lone white figure dropped down into the courtyard. I sat up and had to fight down the urge to run to him. There was blood dripping from his wrist, when his hidden blade was sheathed.

"Are you hurt? Did…is he dead?"

Altair looked troubled, almost confused.

"I am unharmed. I…I need to speak to my master. This kill has raised questions in my mind that only he can answer. We must be away. Come, I will take you home safely"

It was the first time he had openly spoken of his profession, or alluded to being part of a society or organization. I did not press him, however curious I was. He truly seemed bothered by something that had happened. Somehow I doubted it was the kill itself. I got unsteadily to my feet, only to be swept up into sturdy arms. He was going to carry me again. Of course. He jumped up on a table again, and then paused.

"I'm going to need my hands. Hold onto my back"

I carefully arranged myself to cling to his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist. With a heave, he grabbed the edge of the awning and pulled us both up. I was thoroughly astounded by this feat of strength, but he ran on as if it were nothing. He ran down opulent corridors, climbing out a far window and down the face of the palace. He ran along the streets for a bare minute before ascending to the rooftops again. He maintained a steady pace, punctuating each step with a light huff of breath.  
"I can walk from here. I'm sure we're far enough from the palace for me to be safe. I must be heavy, and you must be tired after your, uh, mission"

He shook his head, and his voice was completely level despite everything.

"I want you safe, and I am going to the Assassin's Bureau anyway"

I did not speak again. His tone was short and flat, and did not invite further conversation. I could not help feeling mildly pleased that he cared for my well being, though, and buried my face in his back to hide my smile. I don't know who I was hiding it from, but it felt strange that such a simple phrase made me feel warm in the pit of my stomach. The carnage I had seen had chilled me to the marrow, and though I did not really feel it yet through the muffling layer of shock, I could sense that when I recovered my senses it would be a serious breakdown. Altair ran on in silence, and we arrived home with the moon high in the sky. Father would be worried by now, even if he hadn't heard about the massacre. Altair lowered me to the ground, and steadied my with a hand on my shoulder. He seemed on the brink of some important revelation, but he said nothing. He gave me one of his soul-searching looks, and for once I managed to look back with some semblance of confidence. Ever since I met him, I had been growing as a person. I felt…different. Stronger, somehow. I darted forward, hugging his waist tightly. Altair seemed surprised, and he didn't react. I let go as quickly as I had grabbed him.

"Be safe"

Altair nodded slowly, and I turned on my heel and climbed down the ladder before I collapsed into tears in front of him. The door was unlocked when I pushed it, which concerned me. It was dark inside, and I found my father sitting in his chair. He seemed unaware that I was there.

"Father…?"

He looked up suddenly, and I saw tears on his cheeks.

"Akilah! Oh Akilah, when I heard what happened, I…Thank heavens you are safe"

He clung to me, hugging me tightly, and I broke down in his arms. We spent the next few hours consoling each other, and he made tea with honey to soothe my frayed nerves. I felt much better, though my hands shook so hard I could barely hold the cup. It was dawn when we returned to our respective beds. I highly doubted either of us would be leaving the house again any time soon.


	6. A Friend Comes Home

My last near death experience had faded somewhat in my memory, though the city was still in turmoil over the death of its not-so-beloved leader. Father and I had spent several days holed up, not unusual after the assassination of the king. Many people neglected to walk outside for nigh on a week after the murder and an aura of paranoia and general fear hung over Damascus, especially in the rich sector. Our own living area, right on the blending point of the rich, poor, and middle districts, was in the eye of the storm. We were too far away from the centers of any one district to be caught up in any factions, but that is not to say we didn't have trouble anyway. There were more guards than ever, a measure which I thought was utterly pointless. It did nothing to ease the tension the people felt, and the king was already dead anyway. Bit late for trying to stay on guard now. It had been nearly a month since I had last seen Altair, and I found myself waiting impatiently for his return. How I knew he would return was a mystery, and yet the confidence that he would did not waver. My confidence was not misplaced.

Since that fateful evening, I had been tormented by nightmares. Dreams of me dying, of father dying, of Altair dying. Dreams I woke from in a sweat, heart hammering. After a week or so, the dreams began to change. I still woke up sweating and with a heart set to beat its way out of my chest, but it was no longer from terror. I will not go into unnecessary detail, but safe to say Altair featured prominently in them. Perhaps that was why I was both anxious and reluctant to see him. He had shown concern for me, yes, but he was far from warm or welcoming or friendly. Also, he was an assassin. That was a bit of an issue. I wasn't against it, per se. It just…it wasn't exactly your average profession. I had decided to tell Sudha about him, at least sort of. It was hard to keep secrets from her, but I could not reveal Altair's secret. It wasn't mine to tell. Sudha had returned from Jerusalem yesterday and I longed to speak with her again. I got dressed, a turquoise saree embroidered with flowers and hummingbirds, and a wispy dark blue wrap with red and orange tassels. It was linen, but so soft and thin that it could not have been more comfortable than silk. It was also a lot fancier than anything I would normally wear, but ever since the party father had insisted I dress more like a proper lady. It was a lot more modest than my outfit that unfortunate evening, but it still fit like a glove and brought out my more attractive side. I called out a hurried goodbye to father, assuring him I was only going over to Sudha's place. She lived more in the middle district than us, but still near enough to the border that she wasn't too affected by the upheaval in the heart of the district. I jogged over anyway, unwilling to spend more time than necessary outside. Knocking enthusiastically, I stood back and tapped my foot impatiently until the door swung open.

"Akilah! I have missed you! Oh, we have so much to talk about. Come in, I was just about to take tea in the parlor. Join me, won't you?"

I hugged her tightly, my best friend since childhood. She was a very pretty girl, I thought, though she said the same to me. Sudha was tall and willowy, with sparkling eyes and the delicate features of a porcelain doll. She was darker-skinned than I, but her hair was lighter and straighter. She had it cut shorter as well, to just above her shoulders, and she always had some sort of enameled flower pinned in it. Her saree was dark red with a gold trim. There were tiny golden bells along her ankles and at the edges of her elbow-length sleeves. They tinkled softly as she moved, catching the light like jewels. She looked me over approvingly.

"Finally decided that you are a girl after all? About time Akilah. Or…Oh no. Don't tell me, a man has caught your eye! Is he handsome? Is he rich? Oooh! How exciting! Tell me all about it!"

She barreled right over my protests, determined to get me to tell her about my mystery love. I grinned, arranging myself on cushions worn with use.

"Well, for one thing, these clothes are fathers' idea, not mine. And for another, we have more important things to talk about. I don't know if you've heard, but the king has been murdered"

Sudha gasped, almost dropping her teacup. Her face paled, and she looked sickly.

"That explains why the city is in such a state. I thought perhaps there were riots or something, some new complaint from the poor district, or the rich had gotten too big for their britches. But this…this is unexpected. I do not think my own father and mother know yet. We have been unpacking, mostly, and are yet to see anyone. Gods, how did this happen?"

I took a sip of tea and steadied my nerves. It was not as difficult telling her about what happened at the palace as I expected. She listened raptly, gasping when I showed her the white line on my stomach. I left out the part about Altair, of course, instead pretending it had been my own idea to play dead, and that I snuck out after everyone was gone. When I was finished, Sudha was silent for a while.

"What happens now?"

It was a good question, and one I could not answer. What WOULD happen now?

"I don't know Sudha, but the city has been in a boil ever since the assassination. I'm afraid to go out sometimes, you know? Everyone is afraid and worried about what happens next. I would be happier if you tried to avoid going outside, okay?"

She nodded acquiescence, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Well, with that out of the way, I have some…interesting news. There is a man-"

I was interrupted by an excited squeal.

"-a man who doesn't like me back! Calm yourself, woman! I met him under strange circumstances, and he is mysterious and cold. However, I feel that perhaps he is warming to me. He is very handsome, but I do not know if he is rich. His line of work is…it might or might not be profitable, I do not know. He travels a lot, but I am sure he will be back in Damascus soon. He left around the time the Merchant King was killed, not surprising. Many people left at that time, fleeing a city in chaos. I just…I don't know if he wants to see me, or if he was kind out of circumstance. I helped him once, you see, and he's the very noble sort. Very honorable. I can't tell if he is really concerned for me, or if he feels he is paying back a debt. Though, he's saved my life more than once. The debt is paid back and then some. He might not see it that way, though. I don't know. I'm just confused, you know?"

Sudha patted my arm, smiling. She looked like a cat with a secret, all sly and smug. I pushed her so that she collapsed on the cushions, laughing.

"You're enamored, Akilah! And from the way you tell it, he just might like you too…"

I couldn't smother the smile that grew on my face. I was, as Sudha would put it, in the iron clutches of love. I myself wouldn't put it quite so strongly, but maybe I did have just a little tiny crush on Altair. Just a little one.

"Well, are you going to woo him or not? Because if you are, I brought back just the most PERFECT bath scent from Jerusalem, just for you. What a coincidence, eh?"

Sudha seemed to take it for granted that I was indeed going to pursue him. Well, she knew me better than anyone, so I suppose it was her prerogative to assume. I poured us both fresh cups of tea. We spent several hours chatting about her time in Jerusalem, and my own time here. We exchanged gifts as well. I produced a gold necklace with a charm shaped like a horse, Sudha's favorite animal. She gave me the aforementioned scented oil and a box of silk scarves in bright, cheerful patterns. We said our goodbyes long after the sun had set, complete with promises to meet up again soon. Sudha's older brother, Ebnul, escorted me home. I bid him a fond farewell too, sternly forcing a basket of food on him. They doubtlessly had little to eat, what with the fact that they had come back only yesterday. Father was asleep in his armchair again, book draped across his stomach. With a soft smile, I woke him up and got him to go to his own bed, patiently informing him that he would be sore tomorrow if he didn't. I myself did not go to sleep immediately, instead taking a nice bath to wash off the dust of the day. The bath scent Sudha gave me was honeysuckle, my favorite, and I spent a while enjoying the relaxing sensation. Donning a nightgown of rose silk, I seated myself in front of my mirror to brush my hair, idly examining myself in the mirror. Suddenly, something darted past my window. I only saw the reflection of it, but I spun around with a gasp. Putting aside my hairbrush, I made my way to the window, hesitantly leaning out. Damp hair spilled over my shoulder in a dark waterfall. I spotted him on the opposite roof, perched on a protruding beam. He was completely motionless, but for the breeze that caused his robes to flutter. I swallowed, suddenly nervous, and ran back into my room. Rummaging in my drawers, I found what I was looking for. Returning to the window, I left my little gift on the windowsill. It was a tiny eagle charm on a chain. It was wrought with fine detail, glazed in white and brown with fierce golden eyes. I thought it suited my phantom hero, and had bought it at the same place where I found Sudha's gift. I glanced up at the silhouette, giving him a shy wave, and returned to my bed. I fell asleep quickly, despite my nervous energy, and when I awoke the charm was gone.

I felt like that meant that something had changed, and I greeted the rising sun with a smile.


	7. Decisions, Decisions

It was scant days after my offering was accepted that I saw him again. I was out in the market, sitting on a bench with Sudha. There were little gardens and pavilions tucked away all around the city, and they were pleasant places to sit and chat. The weather was perfect, with a clear blue sky and wonderfully moderate temperature. Not too hot or humid, and with a nice breeze to cool our brows. I had brought an embroidery hoop myself, and was idly stitching forget-me-not patterns on a square of white linen. I planned to trim it and give it to father for a handkerchief. Sudha and I were in the middle of a friendly quarrel about the finer points of the male physique when surprise, Altair darts around the corner. Women and men muttered huffily about his behavior, but the minute he ran into the little square he slowed to a walk and calmly seated himself next to me. I blinked at him, shocked.

"Thank you for the charm. It is…pretty"

He sounded as though he was not used to making small talk, which considering his occupation was understandable. A squadron of soldiers ran past the arch to the garden, waving swords and shouting. My jaw worked for a few seconds, and Sudha clung to my arm blatantly staring.

"I am glad you liked it. I thought it suited you, and I could not leave it all alone in the display"

He did that almost smile thing again, and the way his fingers brushed his chest told me he was wearing my gift under his robes. I was so pleased I could barely stop myself from squirming.

"I hope you have been well. Damascus has been rather tumultuous since…the incident"

I avoided direct eye contact, instead darting looks at him from under lowered lashes and idly smoothing my tunic. I was silently grateful to my father for forcing me to wear nice clothes. My outfit for the day was a linen saree, as per usual of late, this time in a cheery butter yellow and stitched with poppies. It perfectly matched one of the scarves Sudha had brought me, wispy striped red and yellow silk. I wore no makeup, and to my surprise found myself lamenting the fact. In any case, I go off on tangents. Altair gave me a sharp look, frowning momentarily.

"I am sure it is all for the best"

His voice was tightly controlled. It hinted at something I wasn't sure of. Doubt, perhaps, in the phrase he had uttered. I did not press the manner.

"I am glad to see you. I am not sure why, but…I am. God knows you've been nothing but trouble!"

I smiled tentatively to show I was kidding, fiddling with my embroidery. He seemed mildly amused by my little revelation. He touched his chest again, just above his heart, before speaking again.

"The guards are gone, I will be on my way. Good day to you, ladies"

In a whirl of white, he was gone. We watched the arch for a few seconds before Sudha whacked my arm.

"THAT was HIM? AKILAH! What kind of man IS he? Well, a devilishly handsome one, but the guards! Oh, what have you gotten yourself into!"

I shook her by the shoulders, unable to stifle my laughter. She looked like she couldn't decide between being impressed and being horrified. I could understand the dilemma. I hushed her, struggling to come up with a satisfactory explanation.

"He's a-a vigilante, dear. He goes around and protects innocent citizens from the guard, when they decide to get uppity and abusive. He's a hero!"

It was mostly true, anyway, and Sudha appeared mostly satisfied if still mildly suspicious. She sniffed heartily, and I went back to my embroidery. We continued talking for a while, but after another hour or so, she had to leave. Some errands to run, she said. I bid her farewell and stayed where I was, enjoying the solitude as much as I had enjoyed the company. It was scant minutes after she left that Altair seemed to drop out of the sky. I nearly had a heart attack.

"What do you mean, nearly landing on top of me like that?"

I clutched my embroidery to my chest, taking a deep breath. He was really just the most startling man. I cleared my throat and went back to my work, stoically keeping my eyes on the needle.

"I want to talk about this…arrangement we have"

I froze. His voice was strained and forced, and he steepled his fingers thoughtfully. I struggled to keep my voice casual.

"Oh? And what arrangement is that?"

"These…casual encounters. They are unsafe for us both. We should not see each other again"

I tried not to cry out. Not see him again? I barely saw him as is, and I desperately wanted to get to know him better. This was the longest conversation he had ever held with her.

"Well, you seek me out. I doubt I could find you if you didn't want me to. I mean, you must want to see me for some reason or another. And…I rather find I want to see you. You intrigue me, not in itself surprising"

"I…it is true. I seek you out myself. I do not…I do not really know why. I will stop"

"Don't! I mean…please don't. I want to see you sometime. It's not a bad thing, is it?"

Altair shifted, and I was shocked to see that he was visibly discomfited by my request. Clearly he was not a man to do this sort of emotional stuff often. I put aside my embroidery and laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. He did not look at me, but I tried not to be discouraged. I could convince him to give me a chance. I could!

"I won't pry, I won't demand answers, I…I'll just ask sometimes. Maybe offer you some company, or something, anything. Just don't leave forever. Once in a while is good enough for me"

Silence. I struggled not to beg. I couldn't imagine him being gone. Our interaction had been so limited, but I could not bear to lose it. He dropped his hands with a sign, tilting his head to look at me.

"You are remarkably persuasive for some reason. I will see you sometimes. No more often than I have, but I will not leave. You intrigue me as well, I suppose. I wish to explore the reason why"

He stood suddenly, and strode away. I had come to expect such things from him by now, and it did not stifle my joy. He was going to see me. Rarely, and probably for only minutes at a time, but so what? It took me a few seconds to gather myself, and I practically ran home whooping. I mumbled something or other to father and ran up to my room. I was filled with a jittery excitement, and it took me a second to notice the note on my desk. I picked up the yellowed paper, unfolding the crisp sheet. It was covered in beautiful script, and even without a signature I knew it was Altair's. It said, as best as I can recall;

I hope this arrangement will go smoothly. I am not someone people casually make friends with. Hopefully this will not endanger either of us.

I will see you soon.

I grinned, spinning in a tight circle. I tucked the note in my special box, the one where I kept all my sentimental odds and ends. This was an altogether wonderfully successful day. I spent the rest of my night finishing my stitching and laughing quietly to myself in turn.

Successful day indeed.


	8. Twice In One Day

It was a few days after we agreed to our somewhat uncomfortable mutual interest that I saw Altair again. I had spent the days prior stoically convincing Sudha that he was not in fact some sort of murder monk. Honestly though, I wasn't so sure of that myself. In any case, I was out shopping for new dresses when I saw him. Or rather, he saw me. Father had recently bought out a competitor's store, and suddenly there was money to spend. He himself had been celebrating the success of his business, and he had given me a purse full of coins and sent me out to 'buy something pretty'. I decided to do a bit of practical shopping first, purchasing several bolts of cloth in different prints, to make new covers for the pillows and fresh curtains to hang in the windows. I took the leftover money, which was considerable, and figured what better way to spend it than on clothes! I had already visited my favorite store, the one where I had bought my yellow saree with the poppy flower print. I adored poppies; they were a close second to honeysuckle as my overall favorite flower, and first when it came to clothing designs. I had picked out a dress in snowy white, with beautiful lace trim and a matching diaphanous scarf printed with blood red poppies. The contrast was as striking as it was beautiful. I also purchased a black silk robe with a pattern of gold and white concentric diamonds along the hem and sleeves. There was nothing else there that caught my eye, so I left and was meandering down twisted streets, pausing here and there to examine any jewelry that caught my eye. There was another store down the way that I liked, and I was off to go see if it had anything to offer that was to my tastes. Somewhere behind me, a sort of wordless roar rose. It was not particularly loud, and in the bustle of the city market I did not take it for anything out of the ordinary. The shouts were heading in my direction, however, and I realized it was some sort of commotion. I darted down the street, unwilling to get caught up in the mess. I turned a corner and plastered myself against the wall, clinging to my purchases. The street was small and out of the way as is, and this was an alley in an alley. Surely no one would come down here. I was sorely mistaken, however. As I peered down the road I had been on, I felt an arm slip around my waist. I turned, indignant and quite prepared to give the presumptuous fellow a stern dressing down, and came face to face with Altair.

"Shh, be calm. I am being pursued. Walk with me?"

Despite the question at the end of that phrase he seemed to have taken for granted my answer, and was already guiding me down along the very way I had been heading in the first place. We walked in silence at first, and I struggled not to stare at him. I forced myself to look straight ahead, and a faint red rose in my cheeks as I considered why it was that I was having such trouble. Well, it wasn't my fault he was so handsome! At least, that was what I told myself. It didn't stop me from blushing, though. I was secretly pleased that I had taken to dressing properly of late, even if I still refused to wear paints. The clothes brought out what little beauty I had, though I could not yet rely on my awkward tongue to provide the wit and charm. I could barely walk without wobbling or cobble together some semblance of coherence, let alone match wits and provide sparkling conversation. The cries had been coming steadily closer as we walked, though Altair gave so sign of noticing. Suddenly, he pushed me against a wall and leaned over me. I couldn't breathe. He was so close, I was trapped in his arms, in his gaze. His very presence ensnared me. Why could I not think clearly with him around? It was unfair. And then Altair did something that very nearly gave me a heart attack.

"Kiss me"

I barely had time to register the words before he pressed his lips to mine. Dimly, I was aware of what seemed an entire platoon of guards charging past us. Really, I was only dimly of aware of everything at that point. He had one hand on my waist and the other propped him up against the wall. As for myself, I had dropped the things I had bought and was clinging to his shoulders. I was pretty sure that if I let go I would collapse into a watery puddle at his feet. Ah, but I am skirting the real issue, aren't I? The kiss. It was a chaste thing, and it lasted only ten or fifteen seconds, but it felt like an eternity. His lips were soft against mine, and for all that he was hard as steel, he was gentle as a summer breeze. When he pulled away, I opened my eyes and took a shaky breath.

"That just isn't _fair_!"

He seemed to understand what I meant, and flashed me a roguish grin. It was only the second time I had even seen him smile, I realized. With equal surprise I realize I had been keeping track. Adopting a haughty aloofness, I scooped up my things and twined my arm through his.

"It just wouldn't do to leave a girl all on her lonesome like this. A gentleman of your class would be happy to escort me home, yes?"

I gave him my most innocent smile and batted my lashes just so, which elicited a bark of laughter. We both jumped, seemingly equally shocked. He shook his head, muttering.

"But of course, miss. Lead the way…"

We meandered through the streets for some time, largely in silence. I was happy to just be near him, and was silently congratulating myself on being so bold. He really had changed me. As for himself, Altair seemed dangerously relaxed. His wolfish grace was not in the least diminished by the fact that he appeared to be at ease. On occasion one of us remarked on something of interest, whether it was on one of the people preaching in the streets or a pretty view. I purposely took the long way home, and I suspect he knew. Altair was too perceptive not to. As we approached my street, we slowed to a stop and turned to face each other. I managed to maintain eye contact for a full six seconds this time before flushing.

"Thank you. For the company, and the, ah, the help"

I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a croak. My lips still felt warm from that one little kiss. It was ridiculous. He almost-smiled again, and was off in a flurry of white. I took a few seconds to gather myself, and headed home. Father was still not back, so I stopped by Sudhas place and invited her over for some tea and chatter. I showed her what I had bought, and told her about my little altercation with Altair. She was, of course, over-excited about the whole thing.

"He must like you! He must. He would not have kissed you otherwise. I mean, surely he could have thought of a different way to hide than _that_, had he wished it"

"Well, maybe, but…he doesn't seem the type to like anyone, let alone me. Though…he is awfully pretty, isn't he?"

We shared a conspiratorial giggle, and talked for a while yet. I conscripted Sudha into helping me sew, so as we talked we worked on the curtains and covers. She was a better hand with the needle, so I sneakily worked slower than she did so that most of the stitches were hers. Sudha paid no mind; she even added some decorative swirls here and there. It was evening by the time she left, with Ebnul stopping by to pick her up. I offered him some refreshments as well, but he politely declined. Their parents were worried, and if he stayed later they would become frantic. I laughed in understanding. Parents could get so fretful over such minor things. Once they were gone, I hung up the curtains and put on the throw pillow covers. It all looked very bright and cheery, especially with the brand new dishes father had bought. They were all colorful glazed pottery, and etched with simple geometric patterns. A slender porcelain vase on the table held an explosion of wildflowers, and they filled the room with sweet scent. All in all, the house had a warm and happy feeling to it. Partly from the new decorations, partly from fathers success, and partly…partly from the little time I had managed to grab with Altair. It was silly of me to become infatuated with him, what with his occupation and the fact that we barely saw each other. I headed upstairs, muttering to myself about the foolishness of sighing after a man like him. My good mood held, though barely, and I decided a good long soak would do me good. I lit the fire on my way to my room, and let it blaze while I went up to my room. I was in the process of stripping down when a faint whisper of sound at my window made me spin around. I clutched my dress to my chest in mortification.

"Altair!"

"Ah. I did not expect you to get undressed so quickly"

He appeared completely unflustered by my state of undress, damn him, and actually quite calmly took a seat on my windowsill. I gaped, torn between embarrassment and anger. After the incident in the alley, I was in no condition to deal with him. Especially not like this!

"In any case, I was…I was hoping I could stay here for the night. The guards are still on high alert and it is not safe for me to stay at the Bureau. They would never think to look for me here"

Again, I could only gape. He was seriously asking me this? I wanted to punch him so hard he fell out the window, and I wanted to drop the dress and drape myself in his arms. Instead of doing either, I backed away hesitantly.

"Of course. I owe you my life, Altair. But, ah, my bath water is getting cold. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen in the meanwhile"

I fumbled for the door handle, unable to tear my eyes off of him. Gods but he was just the most impossible, infuriating creature! How could he just sit there, all cool stares and steady voice? Ugh. I yanked the door open, shuffling into the hallway.

"Would you like me to scrub your back?""

Augh! I practically ran to the washroom, slamming the door shut behind me. So much for a relaxing evening. What about when father came home? Dropping the dress, I lowered myself into the steaming water inch by inch. It was absolutely luscious, and I dripped some of that lovely bath oil Sudha had given me into the water. The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled the air, and I sank down with a sigh. It was difficult not to fret about father, but I had no doubt Altair could hide well enough if it came to that. In any case, I bathed at a leisurely pace, toweling off in the steamy air of the wash room. Lucky me, I had put away my purchases when I got home, so I had the new robe to wear. I wrapped the black silk around myself, frowning at how it clung to my still-damp skin. There was nothing for it, though, so I hung up the towel and stiffly marched back to my room. Altair was looking at my collection of figurines. Carved ivory animals no bigger than my little finger, about 30 in all. I had them arranged on a series of narrow shelves above my bed. Swallowing, I seated myself at my mirror with my back firmly to him, instead fixedly brushing my hair. I had only managed to complete a dozen strokes before I felt strong fingers insistently tugging the brush out of my hand. I stared at my lap as Altair brushed my hair, again with that shocking gentleness. He went about the task in silence, though I could see him watching me in the mirror. It was unnerving, but I could not bring myself to dislike the feel of his fingers in my hair. Once done, he handed me the hairbrush, which I accepted with a whispered word of thanks. I put it away, and nervously rose from my seat. He graciously stepped back, though I could have sworn I saw the faintest glimmer of a smile on his face. Damn him thrice over!

"I do not know how comfortable you will be sleeping on the floor, but there are extra blankets and pillows in the closet. Make yourself comfortable, please, and if you need anything feel free to ask"

"Oh, and here I thought the bed had room for two"

I was very glad of the fact that I had my back to the blasted man. Still that insufferable calm voice, as though he were commenting on the color of my dress. I cleared my throat, furiously forcing thoughts of what exactly it would be like to share a bed with him to the back of my mind.

"I kick at night, unfortunately. Wouldn't want to keep you awake or anything. After all, pretty boys like you need their beauty sleep, right?"

He scoffed, and rustles behind me told me he was setting up a pallet for himself. I took the time to pull the window closed, shutting out what little light there had been. It was easier to pretend he wasn't there when it was dark. I rummaged in my closet for my nightgown, puzzling over how exactly to get it on. I went over to the bed and got under the covers, pulling off the robe and letting it pool on the floor. In a similarly awkward manner, I squirmed into my nightgown. With my blanket up to my chin, I fell into an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of Altair wreathed in steam, inviting me to take a bath with him.


	9. Bridge Over Troubled Water

I woke with a start, the sheets wrapped tightly around my legs. I had rolled close to the edge of the bed in my sleep, so when I jerked awake I slipped off. With my feet bound, I couldn't throw out a leg to catch myself. I thudded to the floor with a yelp, wrestling angrily with the coverlets. Now my back ached. With a frustrated sigh I quit my squirming and lay down on the floor, legs still up on the bed. That was when I caught an upside down glimpse of an apparently still sleeping Altair. It took me a few seconds to register the fact that I was well and truly awake. Suddenly cautious, I slowly leaned up to detangle myself from the bed and rolled onto my stomach. Rising to a crouch, I crept toward the sleeping figure. Overtaken by this weird fascination, I edged closer and closer. He slept on his back, with his hands neatly folded on his chest, over his blanket. He looked like an angel. I smothered the cheesy thought, but was unable to think of a better way to describe him. It made my heart race to be so close. I could count the individual lashes of his eyes, see the way his chest rose with each even breath. The scar across his lips was a thin white line in the pale morning light. I had to resist the urge to run my fingers over it, instead clasping my hands tightly to keep them still. He had a missing finger. With his armor and whatnot off, I could take a good look. I figured from the positioning of his hidden blade that perhaps it had been an accident. I resolved to ask him about it later. His blanket was only chest high, and I had a gut-wrenching view of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, his strong arms. He was like a perfect marble statue brought to life. Even the little imperfections seemed to just accentuate his overall devilish handsomeness.

"Good morning, sunshine. How about a wake-up kiss?"

He opened one eye, nailing me to the spot. Of course he was only faking it. He was probably awake well before I was, and if not, my fall out of bed would definitely have done it. My mouth went dry and magically, I forgot how to speak. It would be nice if he could turn off the allure for ten minutes, but alas, it was not to be.

"Is that a no, then? Shame…"

I was tired of him having the upper hand. He managed to turn me into a moron just by being around, while he maintained his unruffled attitude effortlessly. I leaned down and brushed a soft kiss across his lips, just the barest touch. I couldn't resist a follow-up, firmer this time. Before I could get carried away, I stood up and smoothed invisible wrinkles out of my nightgown.

"You're going to have to either hide or leave soon. Father is probably still asleep after his celebrating, but if he decides to come up here I will be in for a world of pain"

I kept my voice brisk and as steady as I could. He watched me from the floor with burnished bronze eyes. Or gold, maybe? It was difficult to tell; I couldn't maintain eye contact for very long. He sat up, and I spun on my heel and marched stiffly to the closet, trying to ignore the satisfaction in his eyes. I had forgotten that he was largely undressed. He was, of course, unfazed. Unfortunately for me, just a glimpse of that toned chest was enough to make my supposedly wholesome mind traverse decidedly darker paths. I rummaged through my closet for the new dress, opening the door partway and using it as a changing screen. I never had need for one before, but I cursed the lack of it now. I reached around to do up the buttons along my back, struggling with the little things. That was the only part I didn't like about my new style. Tunics and pants had no fiddly little buttons, whereas most dresses and sarees were too form fitting not to. I should have expected that snake of a man to try something after my little challenge. He slipped up behind me without so much as a floorboard squeak, and started doing up my dress for me. I let him, because it would have been stupid to resist, but was eternally grateful that he couldn't see my face. Somehow, I was very sure that he hadn't very put on any clothes himself.

"It is a very pretty dress"

He wound the sheer scarf, with those lovely poppies, around my shoulders. I murmured something vaguely grateful for the help and slipped past him to open the window. I leaned on the sill, looking out over the rooftops. The alternative was watching Altair get dressed, and I wasn't sure my poor, overtaxed heart could handle such stress so early in the morning. Shuffles behind me told me he had indeed seen fit to garb himself, though he couldn't resist another prod at me.

"Won't you help me with this? It would only be fair…"

I growled wordlessly and stalked over. I would NOT let him get the better of me! Not anymore. He actually laughed, however quietly. I hid my astonishment by roughly buckling his belt and shoulder straps. He was actually starting to relax around me. It was a miracle. I stood back, clearing my throat awkwardly. He had seated himself cross-legged in the corner he had chosen for his bed, casually strapping on his leather vambraces. I took a seat on my bed, fiddling with my scarf.

"Altair, how did you lose your finger?"

"It was part of the initiation ceremony when I truly entered the Brotherhood. I lost my finger and received my blade"

That was unexpected. Both the story and the prompt response. He seemed to take it all in stride, though I couldn't even think about chopping off your own finger without flinching. Having to do that to yourself! He was more dedicated to this life than I could ever imagine. I shifted nervously.

"You are not half as cold as you pretend to be, are you?"

Altair looked up know, never before seen emotions on his face. Mild surprise, confusion, a sort of sadness. Maybe it hadn't been such a smart question to ask. Maybe he wasn't as open with me as I hoped.

"No. No I am not. Not always. Before you ask, yes, I loved another once. Adha, her name was. She was beautiful. She was kind. She was more precious to me than the earth and all the heavens. She died"

There was nothing I could say. I would not insult him by offering my condolences. Clearly he had come to terms, at least somewhat, with the loss. Somehow, he did not strike me as the type to appreciate sympathy or pity. The knowledge did make me feel a whole lot worse about my little crush on the man.

"I like you. Do you like me?"

"Yes"

Was it that simple for him? I hid a smile behind both hands, feeling awful that I could be so pleased when he had just revealed such a loss to me. I wondered if there was any way I could make him feel better, or apologize for asking such personal questions. I decided to offer him a secret in exchange for his, for I had no doubt that his lost love was a secret. Or at the very least something he did not talk about very often.

"My mother died when I was nine. She had the wasting illness; there was nothing to be done. Father was inconsolable for weeks, and I locked myself in my room and would not leave for the first week after her death. It was not fair, I thought, that someone so young and pretty and good could die when bad people were still alive"

He nodded slightly, though I do not think he realized. I felt that perhaps we had built some sort of bridge, with this sharing of losses. A fragile, rickety bridge, but what the hey. We play the cards we are dealt. Altair had gone back to adjusting his armor, flexing his hands to settle them in the bracers. I doubted the man would be flustered if he woke up naked in the middle of the market square. It was much too early for father to be up, and I would normally amuse myself for a while before heading downstairs to make breakfast. With Altair showing no signs of leaving, however, I wasn't sure if it would be better to ignore him and go about my day as usual or to try and engage him in further conversation. I settled for halfway. Seating myself in front of my mirror, I held my brush in my lap for a few seconds before partially turning to face the assassin.

"Would you brush my hair for me? If-if it's not too much trouble, I mean"

He took the proffered brush with a small smile, and I spent the next few minutes luxuriating in his presence. I suspect that could Altair hear half my thoughts concerning him, I would never ever live it down. He set the brush down, laying a tentative hand on my shoulder. I was getting better at not losing the ability to speak every time he came near me, and used this opportunity to use my newfound skill.

"Would you like something to eat? I like to go downstairs and fetch a light breakfast before father wakes up. It would be no trouble to fix you something too"

He graciously acquiesced, and it was with an almost childish fervor that I set to preparing us some food. I made up two bowls of fruits and clotted cream, and a pitcher of chilled wine. I set everything on a tray adorned with a sprig of daisies in a tiny vase. I couldn't resist the decorative touch. I snuck back upstairs with the tray, and shared an unsurprisingly silent repast. We sat cross-legged and facing each other, with morning light slanting across the floor between us. On occasion, he licked cream from his fingers with a glint in his eye that said that the motion was calculated to frustrate. I did my best to ignore his antics, subtle as they were, but it was ever so difficult.

"Thank you. For treating me like just another Adonis of a man rather than…than what I am"

I scoffed, but could not stop the grin that grew on my face. Adonis indeed! It was a shame that it was so obvious how he affected me. I had no way to work an angle on him. Maybe I could get Sudha to give me some tips…

"Like I could say no to someone so pretty as you. It really isn't fair. You drive me to distraction and I have nothing to use to my advantage. Really very unfair"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I find the scent of honeysuckle positively enchanting"

I flushed. Of course he would be better at this game than me. It wasn't all that surprising when he rose, putting aside the bowls and making his way to the window. I darted after him without any clear idea of what exactly I wanted to do.

"Come back. Sometime, I mean. Will you?"

A pause, a nod so faint I could have imagined it, and that trademark swirl of robes. Of course. Could I expect anything different? Still, it had been a good day, and we had practically bonded. If he had been anyone other than who he was I might have said as much. But there were definitely bridges being built, strings being tied. More and more each time we saw each other. I watched the sky for a while after Altair was gone, contemplating the future.


	10. A Terrible Loss

Unbeknownst to me, a great tragedy had struck that same day that Altair visited me. I came downstairs some time after he left to wake father, but found his bed undisturbed. I did not worry overmuch; he could well have been out so late that he had gone straight to the store instead of going home. I spent the day doing chores, cleaning up around the house and whatnot. It did not take me long, so afterwards I set to making Altair another present. I had a lot of time to think about him and the implications of our last encounter. He liked me. I did not know to what extent, but I dared hope that perhaps he would grow to like me more and more.

Then there was the matter of Adha. I did not know who she was, but I could definitely hazard a guess. A past lover, and a close one at that. Perhaps Altair had even been married to her. She was dead, now. Clearly Altair missed her, but his lifestyle forced him to shut away his emotions. All emotions. Perhaps their love had been forbidden. It was very possible. He was a trained killer. To fall in love created a glaring weakness that could be easily exploited by his no doubt numerous enemies. She must have been killed by one of those many enemies. Or rather, the one enemy that had many faces. The Templers were the biggest threat the Holy Land faced, and after the little escapade at the Merchant King's feast it was clear that the organization had its slimy tentacles wrapped around some powerful figures. If the king was not with Salah Hadin than he had to be with them. Unless there was a third faction? Oh, this was such a political mire. In any case, it had little to do with whatever was going on between Altair and I. It was Adha herself that was important, not the manner or reason behind her death. She hung between us, a phantom. It seemed to me almost as though I were trying to usurp her place by Altair's side. I refused to step back, but going forward was somehow disrespectful of her memory. Maybe, if Altair was willing to speak openly, he could allay my worries. Put to rest the ghosts of his past. Some of them, anyway.

In this vein I continued my thoughts, speculating as I worked. I was making a medical wrap, a strip of cloth with small pockets all along the inside for vials and pouches of herbs and powders. It could be rolled up and buckled for easy transport. I suspected Altair did not own such a thing, and that it would come in handy in the future. I had even bought the supplies needed to fill it. On the outside it was thick white Egyptian cotton, padded with multiple layers to protect the fragile items inside. The inner lining, however, was black silk printed with yellow roses. I had some left over after making the new curtains, and could not resist using it. After many hours of work, I could not continue without getting up to light lamps and candles. While I was at it, I fixed myself some food. I had not eaten since breakfast with Altair and my stomach growled in protest of such neglect. I continued to work as I ate, trying to stave off my growing worry. Father was still not home. A long day at work, maybe, but still. It was very unusual. I tied the thread off and put away my sewing kit. I thought it looked quite handsome. I had used a pair of belts for straps, and the entire affair was about as long as my forearm and maybe twice as thick. I went up to my room and rummaged about for the basket where I put the medicines I had bought. Once I found it, I slipped the multicoloured vials into their separate sleeves, tucked pouches of leaves and roots into pockets, and slipped a thin bone case into a pair of loops at the very bottom. The bone case contained a very thin needle and a box of thread and bandages, all boiled in water for sterilization. Just as a precaution. Altair was much too good at what he did to get so severely injured, but still.

Just as I finished rolling up and buckling the thing, there came a heavy thud from down stairs. The door. I set the gift on my table and ran down, eager to see father. It was well and truly night by now, and he would be exhausted. I opened the door, and a dark shape slumped at my feet. I could not breathe. My mind screamed in denial, but the evidence was right before my eyes. Lifeless eyes stared up at me, transfixed by death.

"FATHER!"

I sank to my knees, wailing and clutching his corpse to my chest. I do not know how long I knelt there, weeping and muttering desperate pleas to every god I could think of. It was not possible. Grey streaks in the east marked the pale time before dawn. I pulled the body of my beloved father into the house and locked the door. In the semidarkness I cried, utterly devastated. Who could have done this? Why? There was a note pinned to his chest with a knife. I could not touch it. Instead, with shaking hands, I ripped the paper away. Blood and the tear had rendered most of it illegible, but from what I could read I understood that the killers had been the proprietors of the store father had bought out. I screamed, shredding it. Such a stupid, stupid reason to kill a good man! My grief was overwhelmed with crashing waves of anger. I pulled the knife out in one sharp yank.

"I will make them pay for this, father"

My voice was a hoarse whisper, alien to my ears. My heart thudded steadily in my chest, each beat the death knell of those who had committed this atrocity. I would destroy them, whatever it took. Striding forward purposefully, I yanked the door open and found Altair standing there. He took one look at my tear-streaked face, and the body lying in the shadows, and surmised what was going on.

"Let me by, Altair. I am going to punish the dogs that dared to do such a thing"

"No, Akilah. You will die if you do this. Do you think one girl can kill the men who murdered your father?"

"Let me by, I said!"

I tried to shove him out of the way, but a wall would have moved more easily. He grabbed my wrists, twisting to make me drop the knife. I struggled violently, but he was utterly unfazed. That angered me further, for some reason. Just once, I wanted him to act like a human being. Just once.

"Akilah"

His voice was stern, but when I looked up his eyes were gentle. Unguarded, for once. That was all it took. I collapsed into sobs, my limbs suddenly limp and uncooperative. Altair gathered me in his arms, stepping inside and shutting the door with his heel. He whispered soothing words, stroking my hair and hugging me tightly. All I could do was cry and repeat that it was not fair, not fair! Why did I have to lose him so? Was my mother not enough? My words became meaningless sounds, and I gave up trying to communicate in favor of wringing out every last tear in my body. Altair had brought me to the sitting room and kneeled among the bright cushions, holding me in his arms. I shook, wracked with sobs, and clung to him as though he were the only thing holding me to this earth. He very well could have been. I do not know when I passed out, but when I awoke Altair had laid me down among the pillows and was sitting cross-legged by my side. All that crying, as well as staying up all night, had apparently exhausted me. I sniffed, rubbing itchy eyes. I felt so small and cold. My kind, loving father was dead. Who would take care of me now? What would happen to the store? My eyes were pulled to the body lying some feet away. Altair had draped a sheet over him, for which I was grateful. I cleared my throat, trying to speak. Altair offered me some water, which I took gratefully. I drank most of it and dipped my fingers in what remained to scrub my eyes clean of dried tears.

"I do not know what to do. I am so lost, Altair. So alone"

He bowed his head, sighing. I could not see his face, for he had not lowered his hood ever here. Perhaps it was habit, or maybe he did not want me to see what was written on it. When he spoke, his voice was not the near-monotone I was used to. It was hesitant and soft, as though he were speaking to a wild animal.

"Akilah, I know you are upset and I know you are angry. But these people, they will come for you too, and they will kill you like they did your father. You must flee here, do you understand? Gather some belongings and come away with me. I can hide you, at least temporarily. These people, they are thugs and have no sense of- of goodness or justice. God knows what they will do to you if they find you here alone"

His voice had hardened as he went on, and I detected glimmers of his own anger. It did not distract me from the matter at hand, however. I would have leapt up if my bones had not felt like jelly.

"Leave here! Leave the body of my father for these filthy, disgusting criminals to desecrate? I will not! I will wait for them to come and- and- and I don't know what I will do but they will be made to regret ever laying a finger on my father! They will PAY!"

Fresh tears trickled down my cheeks and I scrubbed them away. Altair sighed again, lowering his hood and looking up at me. His eyes seemed to gather the light, seemed to glow like burnished bronze. I was transfixed, despite my rage.

"I know what it is to lose someone, Akilah. I know the pain, the hollowness, you feel. Trust me when I say that throwing your life away is not what your father would want you to do. If you wish to avenge him, bide your time. Wait in the shadows and strike when your enemy feels safe and secure. Please, Akilah. Let me protect you"

I could see the logic of his words, but my heart did not want reason. Still, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, nodding acquiescence. He carefully pulled me to my feet and helped me up the stairs. I managed to pack without his assistance, though each item I put into my bag twisted my heartstrings further. I could hear father's voice, exclaiming how pretty I was in each new dress he or I brought home. I packed a total of five articles of clothes, my new nightgown, my brush, some scents, my special box of treasures into which I added my collection of figurines, and whatever money and jewelry I had. Before I left, I went downstairs and kissed father goodbye. Altair had closed his eyes as well, another small thing that made me ever so grateful. I took fathers' ring and hung it on a chain around my neck, tucking it into my dress. When I returned upstairs, Altair had buckled my pack for me, as well as having added some provisions and a blanket. He was currently examining his gift. I explained in a raspy voice that I had made it for him. I thought he might be able to keep it wherever it was he hid out, or strap it onto his horse. It seemed like a good thing to have for one in his area of work. He thanked me very sincerely, and asked if I minded holding onto it while we traveled. I readily agreed, and we set out. I had slept the day away, and it was nighttime once again. We traveled by moonlight, walking the streets like ghosts. Our matching white outfits surely made us seem so to anyone who happened to glance us through a window. We were heading deeper and deeper into the poor district, and I could hear distant shouts and scuffles. Somewhere a cat yowled, and there was a crash of falling somethings. Sometimes we saw people walking the streets, though none came near us. I never came here, not even with an escort. It was the undesirable part of town, where muggers and pickpockets gathered. We ducked under an archway and into a tiny courtyard. Altair leapt up onto the wall and kicked the window in with a sound of splintering wood that seemed all the louder for the nighttime silence. He hooked his feet on the frame and leaned down, offering me his arms. I doubtfully took hold. There was no way he could lift me AND a pack full of stuff. I was proven wrong when, with a grunt, he heaved me bodily through the window. He closed it, the shutters hanging askew after being smashed open. It took me some time to get adjusted to the darkness, though Altair showed no sign that it bothered him all that much. He moved about in the small room, clearing away fragments of furniture and setting up a clear space. He disappeared downstairs for a while, reappearing with what appeared to be a stack of granite tiles. Once I could see better I realized they were not tiles but simply flattish rocks, probably from the backyard. He laid these out in corner furthest from the window and used the rotted but dry furniture to light a small fire. In the flickering light I got a good look at the place. Everything was falling apart save the doors and windows, and cobwebs covered the ceiling. Here and there was a sign of habitation; a dust covered doll, a shoe. All in all it looked like the place had been abandoned for some time. I set my pack down on the floor and huddled near the tiny flames. I watched Altair work, moving chunks of fragmented wood and using ancient scraps of cloth to clear away dust and dirt.

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes"

I hugged my knees tightly, smothering a sigh of relief. The thought of spending the night alone here terrified me. I wondered how long I would be staying in this place. While Altair made the space a bit more habitable, I rummaged in my pack for a small copper tea kettle and a thin beeswax candle wrapped in cloth. It had been kind of Altair to take care of the necessities for me. I lit the candle and tiptoed downstairs to fill the teapot at the water pump in the cramped kitchen. I practically ran upstairs, my vivid imagination filling the shadowed corners with watchful eyes. Altair was done by the time I got back, and had seated himself by the fire. I put the kettle on the stand to boil and hugged my knees to my chest again. It felt like there was a hole in my stomach, a yawning empty chasm. It was even worse than when mother had died. I tried not to think of my father's body, alone in the darkness of our home. I jerked when I felt an arm settle around my shoulders, but after a few seconds I let the tension leak out of me and settled against Altair's side.

"How did you deal with it?"

He did not speak for some time, instead staring intently into the fire. His grip on me tightened somewhat, and I pressed against his side. I nuzzled into his chest before I could stop myself, my arms wrapping around his waist. I sought comfort in his presence, his warmth. My legs curled up underneath me so that I was half-sprawled, half kneeling.

"It gets better over time. Vengeance helps. I was alone with my loss. Perhaps…perhaps having someone with you makes it easier"

I hooked my fingers under his belt, fastening myself to him more securely. His presence did help. The way he spoke of getting revenge suggested that perhaps he was going to help me. The thought made me smile grimly. I still ached with the loss of someone dear, but anger and familiarity helped dull the feeling. I had lost both parents. I was an orphan now. I had nothing to lose, and the men who had taken everything from me were going to find out what that meant. I watched the dancing flames with unseeing eyes, and eventually pried myself away from Altair to pour us both small cups of tea. We shared the much needed hot drink in silence, after which he leaned against the wall, stretched out his legs, and closed his eyes. I quietly pulled the blanket from my bag and wrapped it around myself like a cocoon, and lay down with my head in his lap. After a few seconds, he rested one hand on my back and idly stroked my hair with the other. Maybe this was the start of a new life for me. I could not be happy unless I dealt with the pain of my father's death, and maybe Altair would help me with that. Similar thoughts chased each other ceaselessly in my head, but eventually I succumbed to exhaustion and the almost hypnotic quality of Altair's fingers in my hair. I fell asleep watching the flickering shadows, my dreams miraculously free of nightmares.

So I haven't done any little notes or anything, but I think this warrants one. I'm pretty sure this fic will be changed to rated M soon, so for all of you fellows who were hoping for some action, it's coming. Nothing like loss to bring people closer, right? R&R guys! Tell me what you think Akilah should do now. Go get those murdering bastards, or run away with Altair and try to get over it with his help? Or something else entirely? Write in, or I just won't know how to proceed.

:P


	11. The Escalation

When I awoke it was early morning, and Altair was gone.

In the pale light streaming in through the cracks and holes in the walls and barricaded windows, the room appeared smaller than it had in the smothering panic of last night. The numerous chinks had been invisible in the darkness, but now the glow they let in illuminated bars of dust. The display was quite pretty, and I might have appreciated it more had I not been painfully aware of why exactly I was in this wreck of a hut instead of my comfortable house, enjoying chilled fruit and preparing breakfast.

Gut-wrenchingly aware.

I tried not to let Altair's absence bother me. He was no doubt busy doing something work-related. I could fend for myself for a few hours, for heaven's sake. The best thing to do now was keep busy, most effectively by doing a better job of cleaning up the place. Altair's rudimentary fixing and patching had done little to improve the condition of this place. The first thing I did was fashion a crude duster out of scraps of rotted cloth, frayed rope, and a bit of splintered curtain rod. The second thing I did was strip out of my dress, down to my wispy linen shift. This was going to be hot, dirty work. Besides, it wasn't exactly like there was an audience. The dust and filth I swept up in the upstairs room alone accumulated into a sizeable mountain by the doorway, and took me the better part of two hours to gather. I slowly worked at the pile, brushing bits of it into the only whole bucket I had managed to find in this place. The remains of three others (nothing more than rusted metal hoops and handles) were tossed onto the trash pile. Altair had to have gotten the rocks he used to insulate the fire from somewhere out of doors. It did not take me long to find the entrance to the cramped backyard. Luckily for me, my assassin-slash-guardian angel had smashed the door open before. If he had not, I doubted I would have been able to pry the moisture-swollen thing open on my own.

Dumping the dirt and other miscellaneous filth in the corner that had once been the compost heap, I made quick work of the upstairs pile. In this manner, over the course of five hours, the rest of the house was cleaned. Luckily for me had been the house of a very poor family and contained but two other rooms, a washroom, and a storage closet under the eaves. There was not even a kitchen, but a decrepit old cooking stove outside.

After this preliminary clean up, I washed my dusting rag, and used the mostly leak free bucket I had found to lug some water upstairs and mop the floor. Downstairs I mostly just sloshed bucketfuls of it over the uneven boards. I had already grown tired from my frantic work, and it was hardly past midday. The way I figured, the place was clean enough to be habitable for now. I doubted the other rooms would be in much use. One was filled with piles of wood that had once been furniture, reduced by time to unidentifiable fragments, and the other was completely barren except for a solitary mirror, warped and grimy. I had wiped it clean, but the image it reflected was just as murky as before. Aside from the backyard and the washroom, the ground floor held little of interest. The one useful room, the one with the furniture bits, would no doubt serve for fuel supply in the near future. I had the presence of mind to carry up several decent armfuls of wood and pile them near the makeshift fire pit before declaring my work done.

I was sweaty and tired, eager to be clean myself. I trotted downstairs with my few remaining toiletries and carried water to fill the bath. The washroom had been particularly difficult to open as its door, like that which led to the yard, was warped with damp. Luckily, the enlarged door had also sealed against dirt, and the washroom had been mostly clean when I managed to force the dratted thing open. It took some time to stoke the fire and then bank the coals to a tolerable temperature, during which I filled the other tin tub in the room and stripped my filthy underclothes off.

The sweat and dust matted cloth clung, a reptiles second skin waiting to be shed.

Dripping a bit of my beloved scented oil into the steaming tub, I sank into it with a groan of pleasure, not bothering to ease myself into the heat and ignoring the scalding sting. The momentary discomfort was just that, momentary. Aches quickly began to fade.

I luxuriated for a long time, steam blanketing the small room quite thoroughly. Every time I moved too quickly and splashed water on the coals, a fresh cloud of sweet-smelling white rose up around me. The experience was supremely relaxing and reminiscent of a steamy sauna and a bathhouse in one. Finally, I proceeded with the actual business of washing, vigorously scrubbing the sweat and filth off. The water turned murky and gritty, suggesting that perhaps as much dirt had clung to my person as had been swept out. Finally satisfied, I clambered out and used the clean water in the other tub to wash myself off. The water, unheated, seemed almost cold to my hot flesh. I broke out in pleasant shivers, feeling wonderfully refreshed. It was when the steam began to clear that I realized something was off.

Mortified, I stared at the silk robe I had left upstairs, now hanging from a crooked peg on the wall.

I realized, with the slowly escalating horror of someone who desperately wants to believe otherwise, that Altair had been here.

I frantically wrapped the flimsy thing around myself as though he were still here, in the fog. You can imagine that I was not at all pleased at how it clung to my damp skin. I half-believed I heard a soft, mocking laugh. Confound that blighted creature! Slithering around like a black adder, sneaking into places he has no business being, invading my privacy! I fumed, but on the inside I knew I was not truly angry but rather embarrassed of my girlish fancies and my secret desire to have him do more than get a brief glimpse. The idea was enough to send my girlish heart a-fluttering.

Managing to twist my arm into the right position was a feat of contortion, but I succeeded in smacking myself upside the head. _Stupid girl. Put such ridiculous ideas firmly out of your mind before they get you killed or worse._ It was hard to take my own advice, though. Altair taunted, and teased, and mocked. He knew it was a miracle of self control that I kept my cool. For the most part, anyway. Streams of swears wound through my mind. When I ran out of words I had heard in the markets I began to get creative and substitute my own. It was in this state of mind that I tromped upstairs, bitterly ashamed and looking for an excuse to lash out.

Of course, when I found him, Altair was all collected self-possession and fixed composure. He looked fresh and clean, likely having visited the Assassin's Bureau and made use of its facilites. I did not see at the time the rigidity of his pose, the effort with which he kept his movements slow and deliberate. Altair sipped a cup of tea with infuriating casualness. I longed to smack it out of his hands, to shout and rage and get worked up into a right state. The sight of him, though, took the indignation out of me. I knew I would just make myself look the bigger fool, and instead opted for dignified defeat. I kneeled and poured myself some tea, refusing to meet his eye.

"I see you've done a wonderful job cleaning this place up a bit. Practicing your housekeeping skills for your future husband, no doubt"

I looked up at the words, but though his tone was sardonic I saw that familiar glint of mirth in his eyes. He _wanted_ me to get angry. Well, damn him thrice over if he thought he was going to prod me into reacting! Unsure of his motives but determined to give him the exact opposite of what he wanted, I flashed him my most demure smile. Eyes downcast, voice meek, the whole sorry act. I may not believe in the sort of wives who berate their husbands and act as though they hold their marriages and spouses in contempt, but no more could I stand the groveling things reduced to subhuman that trailed after their keepers like dogs.

"But of course. One wants nothing more than to be a worthy wife who knows her place, yes?"

The sickly sweet words felt thick, and it was hard to keep the contempt from my voice. Altair, however, did not seem the least surprised or put out by my playacting. If anything, he appeared all the more pleased. A cat with cream. I boiled on the inside. No matter what I did with this man, I lost! Everything always played out in his favor and it was driving me to my wits end. We took turns sipping our tea, and though I kept my eyes half lidded and fixed firmly to the ground I could feel him watching. Burning holes in me with that armor-piercing stare of his. It was a test of my resolve not to fidget.

Finally, after perhaps fifteen minutes of the stupid game, I glanced up through my lashes. What I saw nearly made me drop my cup. Altair was staring at me, oh yes. But the look on his face! Emotions battled it out on his features, shifting between a surely imagined want and a sort of pained remorse. Flickers of anger, and of confusion, and of desire.

Of lust.

_Lust._

I could not find my voice. I was seeing things. I was out of my mind, hallucinating, dreaming, _anything._ And yet my eyes refused to cooperate, refused to show me the truth of things. Altair had not moved out of his casual cross-legged position, making what was unfolding all the more surreal. I saw that he had his cup in a white knuckled grip, and I was sure the crude clay cup was going to be crushed.

Tentative and afraid, I drew in on myself. I had never seen him like this, and it frightened me. The half-touches, the sudden gentle moments, they had been unnerving enough. But to see this living marble statue of a man suddenly display emotions as human and base as desire and guilt was something else entirely. The mood swing screamed wrongness. Every nerve in my body was actively denying the situation. _It cannot be right, Akilah. You are imagining things, Akilah. You see only what you want to see, Akilah._

"A-Altair?"

My voice seemed small in the vast gulf of silence that yawned between us. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and setting his cup down with a deliberate care that spoke of fragile restraint. The cup was spider-webbed with hairline fractures.

"Yes, Akilah?"

His voice sounded as ragged as I felt. The harshness of it condemned to silence, stricken dumb with its strained control. Was he angry with me? When he suddenly got up I flinched, jerked back instinctively. The primitive lizard brain in me was in hysterics, shrieking at me to get out, get out while I could! This situation was all wrong and no good would come of it. His expression was pained at my reaction, and he raised a placating hand.

"Please…for the love of god, please don't be afraid"

"I am n-not afraid of you, Altair! Ha! Why would I be afraid? T-that's a stupid thing to think…"

"Please, Akilah"

I could not get past the way he said my name, pleading and soft, with a trace of yearning as though for something he could not have. For the first time there were chinks in his shell. More than that. I was seeing him fall apart before my very eyes. If not him, then the walls he had built around himself. It was too much, but some small part of me thrilled at this. It was impossible to say if what I wanted to do and what I should do were one and the same, but I didn't care. I did not know why Altair had suddenly shattered, why he appeared to be balanced on the edge of the keenest razor known to man, why he suddenly seemed to desperately need my implicit trust. I did not care.

I stood slowly, wobbling, and took three careful strides toward him. Three strides? The physical distance between us had seemed dizzyingly large, a wasteland to cross. Yet there I was, facing him on jellied knees and with a trembling spirit. I kneeled slowly. He did not meet my eyes for a long time, but instead shut his own tight and breathed unsteadily. I had never heard the slightest hitch in his breath before, and now he was inhaling slowly and deeply with an audible stuttering rattle as though he had sprinted for miles. It was the way one would breathe after a good hard cry.

Leaning forward, I brushed a delicate kiss across his lips. It was different than the few we had shared, one given in childish one-upmanship and the other given out of a desperation to escape. It was plaintive and unsure, but clearly quite willingly given.

That seemed to be what Altair had been waiting for.

His hands were shaking as he cradled my face, something I noted with the clinical detachment of someone in shock. He had large, rough hands. His fingers brushed the back of my neck, one thumb stroking my jaw line and the other my lips. The motions seemed as pained as his face had been when I had moved away, and he handled me as though terrified of hurting me. As though terrified of himself.

Agonizing seconds passed, each dragging by like a century of drought. The second kiss we shared was more passionate, shot through with a desperate need. When he pulled away, I saw that he was searching my face. At first I did not realize why, but it dawned on me that he expected rejection, condemnation. And here I had thought him intelligent.

I clung to his robe, the cloth rough to my fingers, and pulled. Of course I could not budge him, and the motion served instead to pull myself into him rather than the other way around. It didn't matter. I kissed him again, putting to use every fragment of advice I could remember Sudha ever giving me. I could feel us settling against each other, molding to one another's forms. Altair slipped his hands down to my waist, pulling me insistently towards him. I was sure he wanted me in his lap, but instead I straddled him. The position felt more natural, though it forced my robe up. Cool air on my thighs made me aware of how exposed I was, but I didn't care.

I wanted this more than anything.

Altair made this delicious noise, something like a darkly possessive growl, and let one hand settle on the bare skin of my leg. He seemed to have overcome his fear that I was going to push him off in disgust. I couldn't tell if his touches were gentle out of worry that he might hurt me or simply because that was how he was.

Either way his rhythmic motions were making me feel languid and sensuous, one thumb still stroking my cheek, the other now massaging in slow circles on my thigh. Never had I felt like this before. My nervousness, my fear, everything was pushed aside as some sort of universal laws took over. It was like I suddenly knew, with perfect clarity, _exactly_ what we both wanted.

All my concerns now thoroughly banished till a later date, I took my time in exploring the contours of his mouth. His lips were amazingly soft, and I could feel the ridge of his scar.

He tasted like rain.

Without breaking our embrace, I slipping my hands up his back. I was suddenly incredibly familiar with exactly where every buckle was, and what direction to pull it in. Lust focused the mind wonderfully when it came to removing obstacles between yourself and what you wanted. It did not take long for me to pull the weapons aside, drop them unceremoniously to the floor. I could feel Altair's unyielding form better now, though the robe was still far too thick for my liking. I pulled back his hood, pulling away for a second to take him in. When I stroked his cheek he turned his face toward my hand like a cat, and that pained look returned for a brief moment. Stricken, I pressed my lips to his. I wanted to understand, I wanted to take away his sadness and his suffering. It seemed to work, at least for the moment. His hands were both on my legs now, fingertips tucked just under the hem of my robe. Again he stalled, again some sort of guilt or regret welled in his eyes. I settled back, delicately running my fingers through his hair. I spoke and smiled softly, trying to cajole him out of his momentary depression.

"I'm getting awfully worked up. You had better stop moping, Altair, and take those robes off double-quick"

So he did.


	12. A Brief Intermission

So it's been a damned long time since I updated! I guess this is a little interlude just to give you guys a heads-up. I will probably start updating fairly regularly soon enough. Just so you know, I plan on this fic to be maybe twenty to twenty-five chapters. I want to give you an idea of how much to expect from this, is all!

In any case, sorry about the prolonged absence. Too much to go into, but suffice to say I was most busy.

Anyway, I hope the extra-lengthy update is to your satisfaction! Expect more soon.

3

The Traveller


	13. Dark Promise

By god, he was even more beautiful than I had expected.

The glimpses I had caught before of his bare flesh did not do justice to the vision that he was. I…well, I must sound ridiculous, but I cannot help but be in awe of his perfection, can I? He was mysterious, deadly, fascinating in every way. He was everything I hadn't known I wanted, and suddenly he…he was mine. Perhaps not for long, perhaps only tenuously, but he was _mine. _I did not know at the time how much this meant to not only me but him as well. It was more than laying aside professionalism and years of living by the blade. In any case, let me get to the part you are no doubt most eager to hear.

My heart was thudding loud in my chest, clearly set on beating its way through my sternum. Every detail of what was unfolding before me played out in excruciating slow motion, and every little movement was noted with an inexplicable pleasure so sharp it pained. The way Altair raised his arms, slipping his robes over his head. The soft rustle of cloth on skin. How his hair was ever so slightly tousled when he tossed his clothes aside. My gift glittered on his chest, the charm threaded onto a thin gold chain. To see it there made me swell with inexplicable pride. _My _gift, around _his _neck. His eyes seemed to gather in the light, fill with a burnished glow. The warmth and softness they radiated made my breath hitch. I swayed drunkenly, as though dealt a physical blow. Unprecedented. Altair kissed me then, tangling strong fingers in my hair and pulling me close. He was so gentle! Afraid to hurt me. I did not know how to assure him that I trusted him, that I was not afraid of him. Well, not when he was like this. Altair could snap my neck like a twig if he took it into his mind to do so.

I turned my thoughts to what was at hand. My robe was slowly starting to slip off my shoulders. My skin, no longer damp, did not adhere to the silk. Something Altair took delicate advantage of. He tugged at my sleeve, and the way his eyes ran up along the bare skin of my shoulder and neck before meeting mine made me flush hot. It was a raw, needy gaze. No one had ever looked at me like that before. Lecherous leers, sure, but this sort of appreciative want was something new to me.

I liked it very much.

He ran his fingers very lightly over my exposed flesh, making me shiver involuntarily. The feathery touches continued for a while, and I was happy to luxuriate. After several minutes of thoroughly examining the few square inches of skin I was baring, Altair shifted slightly and kicked off his boots. Things were getting serious…

I bit my lip nervously, and he made this little noise, like he had been holding his breath. I glanced up to see him staring.

"I like it when a girl bites her lip. It's very…enticing" he explained, his voice taut.

Of course, that just made me blush a deeper red. Gods, even when we were both out of sorts he managed it with grace where I acted the fool! When Altair tugged at the tie around my waist I let him pull the bow loose with nothing more than a coquettish look from under my lashes and a soft smile. The sable silk pooled around my waist when I let it slide off my arms, and for the first time in my life a man got to see my naked self. I was self conscious, gods yes, but I wanted him to look.

"I'm afraid I can't offer much in the way of comfort, but I'm sure we'll be able to make do with more humble tangled sheets…"

He lifted me slightly and laid me back on the robe he had so recently discarded. Had it been scant minutes ago? It seemed years had passed. My hair spilled around me in a dark halo, glimmering dully in the flickering light like oil. He brushed it aside carefully, murmuring something I only half-caught. It sounded like my name.

Altair turned my head slightly and leaned down to nuzzle my neck. The sensation made me inhale sharply and audibly, and I squirmed against my will. He had no intention of stopping, though, and used his body to press me to the floor and one hand to pin my arms above my head. His weight was not crushing, as he supported himself partially with the free arm, but it effectively stopped me from moving unless he let up. All I could do was make pitiful little noises. When Altair paused his affectionate ministrations to bite, I couldn't help but moan. My teeth clicked shut in mortification, but the accursed man seemed bent on drawing out everything I had to offer. He renewed his efforts with great vigor, kissing and licking and biting in turn. It drove me crazy, and I found myself begging weakly for him to stop. When he finally pulled back for a second, I was flushed and panting for breath.

"And to think, all I've made use of so far is my mouth"

It was only the fact that I liked him so damn much that stopped me from breaking his nose with my forehead. Also because that would have probably hurt a whole lot but never mind that. I decided to turn the tables the only other way I knew how.

"Let me up, Altair"

A cheap shot, but what else was there to work with? I kept my voice stern, but could not manage to keep it very steady. I was still breathing quite heavily, after all. When, concerned, he let go of my wrists and made to rise, I made use of his upward motion to push him off and over to the side. I never would have accomplished this had he not already been moving away, and had I not caught him off guard. Hell, it was amazing I succeeded anyway. I flipped us, and now he was under me. Altair looked as shocked as he was capable of looking, which amounted to slight wide-eyed-ness. It figured. I explained as casually as I could that I had asked him to let me up, not to leave me altogether. I then used my now freed hands to thoroughly explore him in a way I had only dreamed of before. Running hesitant fingers over his cheeks, brushing the scar that crossed his lips, down over his neck, over strong shoulders, across his broad chest. A myriad of scars marred his torso, thin white lines in a dozen places. On his side was a more vicious mark, a gnarled line about two inches in length, and colored the angry red of a recent injury. Altair tensed when I touched it, so I quickly moved on. It must have been a very painful memory to make him react so. He bore my examination with impeccable patience, his eyes following me the only movement he made the whole time. I would never tire of examining him so, following the lines and curves of his body, feeling where he yielded and where there was only hard muscle. His skin was hot beneath my hands, almost feverish. I draped myself over him, dwarfed by his stronger and taller form, and listened to his heartbeat.

Hours, I could have lain there, distant thudding in my ears and his rough fingers running up and down my spine. It was only out of an instinctual desire for more that I moved. I slid up, seeking another kiss, another touch. He gave me what I wanted, of course. Another flip and he was over me again, predatory and lusting for more. Who was I to deny him his wish? He became increasingly rough, frantic.

I was not…particularly well informed on what exactly a man a woman did in the bedroom, but whatever it was I wanted it. My knowledge of anatomy was rudimentary at best, and what I knew of sex I learned from hushed stories Sudha relayed to me. Things she had heard men and brothel girls speaking of. When she told me such snippets they had sounded filthy and wrong, but this was completely different. It felt exactly right.

Altair suddenly moved, sitting back on his haunches. I was self conscious, and it took effort not to immediately pull my robe on. I did not realize what he was doing until sudden darkness enveloped us. He had doused the fire. My nerves sang, the encroaching night making everything sharp. Silence, utter silence. A touch, along my throat. A kiss, so soft I thought I might have imagined it. A whisper of breath over my skin. Altair taunted me like this until he could resist no more. The touches became rough and possessive, and I cried out his name. He murmured mine in my ear in response.

"Akilah, are you sure this is what you want?"

It was a question I had been expecting, and there was absolutely no hesitation when I gave my answer.

"I have never wanted anything more"

A pause, a rustle, a moment of quiet. I felt his naked form settle above me, electricity sparking where our bodies met. He was…not nervous, not afraid…just unsure. Unsteady. It had, no doubt, been a long time since he had given himself to a woman. I felt a warm glow at the thought. I was special to him. Altair buried his face in the crook of my neck, and I felt _something_ brush the place I suddenly realized I most wanted to be touched. He warned me that it would hurt the first time, but heedlessly I urged him on. Whatever pain there was would be well worth the pleasure in my eyes. He moved forward, slow and patient though I realized it was difficult for him. Incredibly difficult, if the way his back muscles knotted beneath my fingers was any indicator. Altair was right; there was pain, and he soothed my cries with apologetic kisses. It did not take long for me to get acclimated to his motions, though, and return to my previous needy moans and desperate pleas. I do not know how long we lay together, locked in passionate embrace. Intense pleasure rocked me more than once, setting every inch of my skin on fire. I was lost to myself, finding his name on my lips with every cry. Altair himself was quite vocal, and more than once I felt him tense and peak as I did. Time had no meaning to me when I was in his arms.

It was only much later, exhausted and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, that I saw that light was breaking through the swiss-cheese wall. It was dawn. We had whiled the night away quite effectively. Altair was on his back, eyes shut and breath even. I knew he was still awake in spite of this, and when I curled up against his side he wrapped an arm around me and pulled my robe up to cover us. Through lidded lashes I watched him until we fell asleep, his visage the last thing in my eyes. He was perfect to me in every way. Of course, I am no fool. I knew even then that he had flaws, and that I simply did not care about them. It mattered not. He was perfect all the same, in heart and body and soul. I slept more peacefully that night than I ever have before, and when I woke I found Altair watching me with that dagger-sharp stare of his. Good. I wanted him to look into the depths of my spirit and see that I practically worshipped the ground he walked on. I wanted nothing more than him, forever.

"Altair, I think I love you"

The words were soft, and hoarse. I had not had anything to drink for a long time, and my throat felt dry. In the yawning emptiness of the room they seemed small. And yet, Altair smiled.

He smiled an earnest, relaxed smile of a sort I had never imagined he would wear. He smiled like all was right in the world.

"I think I love you too"

((* This took a lot longer than I expected guys. I'm sorry! I just…eh. I had such trouble with this chapter, and I spent ages agonizing over it, and it STILL came out crummy. D: I WILL TRY HARDER, FAITHFUL READERS. Also, up till now I had been following the events in the game to the T, and trying to weave Akilah into the story (The Merchant Kings speech was word for word! :O ), but now I stray from canon. I KNOW. Blasphemy! But that is how it shall be. Please do not lose too much sleep over it. *))


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